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THE 



PILGRIM'S Progress 

FROM THIS WORLD 

TO 

THAT WHICH IS TO COME. 

BY 

JOHN BUNYAK 



iWITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. D. WATSON AND OTHERS. 



NEW YORK 

HURST & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 





1^3 






yrtJii^rtL^ 






^ 






THE LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 



John Bunyan" has faithfully recorded his own spiritual 
history. Had he dreamed of being "forever known," and 
taking his place among those who may be called the im- 
mortals of the earth, he would probably have introduced 
more details of his temporal circumstances, and the events 
of his life. But, glorious dreamer as he was, this never 
entered into his imaginations. Less concerning him than 
might have been expected has been preserved by, those of 
his own sect; and it is now not likely that anything more 
should be recovered from oblivion. The village of Elstow, 
which is within a mile of Bedford, was his birthplace; 
1628 the year of his birth ; and his descent, to use his 
own words, "of a low, inconsiderable generation ; my 
father's house,'' he says, "being of that rank that is meanest 
and most despised of all the families in the land.'' It 
is stated in a history of Bedfordshire, that he was bred 
to the business of a brazier, and worked as a Journeyman 
in Bedford; but the Braziers' Company would not deem 
itself more honored now if it could show the name of John 
Bunyan upon its rolls, than it would have felt disparaged 
then by any such fellowship ; for he was, as his own state- 
ment implies, of a generation of tinkers, born and bred 
to that calling, as his father had been before him. Where- 
fore this should have been so mean and despised a calling 
is not however apparent, when it was not followed as a 
vagabond emplo3^ment: but, as in this case, exercised bj 



4 LIFE OF JOHN' BUNYAN. 

one who had a settled habitation, and who, mean as his con- 
dition was, was nevertheless able to put his son to school^ 
in an age when very few of the poor were tanght to read and 
write. The boy learned both, "according to the rate of 
other poor men's children," but soon lost what little he had 
been taught, "'even,'' he says, "almost utterly." 

Some pains, also, it may be presumed, his parents took in 
impressing him with a sense of his religious duties; other- 
Avise, when in his boyhood he became a proficient in curs- 
ing and swearing above his fellows, he would not have been 
visited by such dreams and such compunctuous feelings 
as he has described. "Often," he says, "after I had spent 
this and the other day in sin, I have in my bed been greatly 
afflicted, while asleep, with the apprehensions of devils and 
wicked spirits, who still, as I then thought, labored to draw 
me away with them." His waking reflections were not less 
terrible than these fearful visions of the night; and these, 
he says, "when I was but a child, but nine or ten years 
old, did so distress my soul, that then, in the midst of my 
many sports and childish vanities, amidst my vain com- 
panions, I was often much cast down, and afflicted in my 
mind therewith ; yet could I not let go my sins. Yea, I was 
also then so overcome with despair of life and heaven, 
that I should often wish, either that there had been no hell, 
or that I had been a devil, supposing they were only tor- 
mentors; that if it must needs be that I went thither, I 
might be rather a tormentor, than be tormented myself." 

These feelings, when he approached toward manhood re- 
curred, as might be expected, less frequently, and with less 
force; but though he represents himself as having been 
what he calls a town sinner, he was never so given over to 
a reprobate mind, as to be wholly free from them. For 
though he became so far hardened in profligacy that he 
could "take pleasure in the vileness of his companions," 
}c't the sense of right and wrong was not extinguished ia 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 6 

him, and it shocked him if at any time he saw those who 
pretended to be religious, act in a manner unworthy of their 
profession. Some providential escapes, during this part of 
his life, he looked back upon afterwards, as so many judg- 
ments mixed with mercy. Once he fell into a creek of the 
sea, once out of a boat into the river Ouse, near Bedford, 
and each time was narrowly saved from drowning. One 
day an adder crossed his path; he stunned it with a stick, 
then forced open its mouth with the stick, and plucked 
out the tongue, which he supposed to be the sting, with 
his fingers, ^loj which act,'' he says, ^Tiad not God been 
merciful unto me, I might by my desperateness have 
brought myself to my end." If this indeed were an adder, 
and not a harmless snake, his escape from the fangs was 
more remarkable than he was himself aware of. A circum- 
stance which was likely to impress him more deeply, oc- 
curred in the eighteenth year of his age, when, being a 
soldier in the Parliament's army, he was drawn out to 
go to the siege of Leicester. One of the same company 
wished to go in his stead; Bunyan consented to exchange 
with him; and this volunteer substitute, standing sentinel 
one day at the siege, was shot through the head with a 
musket-ball. 

Some serious thoughts this would have awakened in a 
harder heart than Bunyan's; but his heart never was 
hardened. The self-accusations of such a man are to be 
received with some distrust, — not of his sincerity, but of 
his sober judgment. It should seem that he ran headlong 
into the boisterous vices which prove fatal to so many of 
the ignorant and the brutal, for want of that necessary 
and wholesome restrictive discipline which it is the duty 
of a government to provide; but he was not led into those 
habitual sins which infix a deeper stain. "Had not a mir- 
acle of precious grace prevented, I had laid myself open," 
he says, "even to the stroke of those laws which bring some 



6 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

to disgrace and open shame before the face of the world.** 
That grace he had. He was no drunkard; for, if he had 
been, he would loudly have proclaimed it : and, on another 
point, we have his own solemn declaration, in one of the 
most characteristic passages in his whole works, where he 
replies to those who slandered him as leading a licentious 
life with women. "I call on them," he says, "when they 
have used to the utmost of their endeavors, and made the 
fullest inquiry that they can, to prove against me, truly, 
that there is any woman in heaven, or earth, or hell, that 
can say I have, at any time^ in any place, by day or night, 
so much as attempted to be naught with them. And speak 
I thus to beg mine enemies into a good esteem of me? 
No, not I! I will in this beg leave of no man. Believe 
or disbelieve me in this, 'tis all a-ease to me. My foes have 
missed their mark in this their shooting at me. I am 
not the man. I wish that they themselves be guiltless. If 
all the fornicators and adulterers in England were hanged 
up by the neck till they be dead, John Bunyan, the object 
of their envy, would be still alive and well. I know not 
whether there be such a thing as a woman breathing 
Tinder the copes of heaven, but by their apparel, their chil- 
dren, or by common fame, except my wife." And "for a 
wind-up in this matter," calling again, not only upon men, 
but angels, to prove him guilty if he be, and upon God 
for a record upon his soul, that in these things he was inno- 
cent, he says, "not that I have been thus kept because of 
any goodness in me more than any other, but God has 
been merciful to me, and has kept me." 

Bunyan married presently after his substitute had been 
killed at the siege of Leicester, probably, therefore, before 
he was nineteen. This he might have counted among his 
mercies, as he has counted it that he was led "to light upon 
a wife'' whose father, as she often told him, was a godly 
man who had been used to reprove vice, both in his own 



UPE OP JOHN BUNYAN, 7 

hsmse and among his neighbors, and had lived a strict and 
holy life, both in word and deed. There was no impru- 
dence in this early marriage, though they "came together 
as poor as poor might be, not having so much household 
stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt them both;" for Bunyan 
bad a trade to which he could trust, and the young woman 
had been trained up in the way she should go. She 
brought him for her portion two books, which her father 
had left her at his death. "The Plain Man's Pathway to 
Heaven" was one; the other was Bayly, Bishop of Bangor's 
"Practice of Piety,'' which has been translated into Welsh 
(the author's native tongue), into Hungarian, and into 
Polish, and of which more than fifty editions were pub- 
lished in the course of a hundred years. These books he 
sometimes read with her ; and though they did not, he says, 
reach his heart to awaken it, yet they did beget within him 
some desires to reform his vicious life, and made him fall 
in eagerly with the religion of the times, go to church 
twice a day with the foremost, and there very devoutly say 
and sing as others did ; yet, according to his own account, 
retaining his wicked life. 

One day the minister preached against Sabbath-break- 
ing, and Bunyan, who used especially to follow his sports 
on Sundays, fell in conscience under that sermon, verily 
believing it was intended for him, and feeling what guilt 
was, which he could not remember that he had ever felt 
before. Home he w^ent, with a great burthen upon his 
spirit ; but dinner removed that burthen ; his animal spirits 
recovered from their depression; he shook the sermon out 
of his mind; and away he went, with great delight, to his 
old sports. The Puritans' notwithstanding the outcry 
which they had raised against what is called the Book of 
Sports, found it necessary to tolerate such recreations on 
the Sabbath ; bnt it is more remarkable to find a married 
man engaged in games which are now only practised by 



g LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

boys- Dinner had for a time prevailed over that morning's 
sermon, but it was only for a time; the dinner sat easy 
■upon him — the sermon did not; and, in the midst of a 
game of cat, as he was about to strike the cat from the 
hole, it seemed to him as if a voice from heaven suddenly 
darted into his soul, and said, Wilt thou leave thy sins, and 
go to heaven ? or have thy sins, and go to hell ? "At tliis," 
he contiQues, "I was put to an exceeding maze; wherefore, 
leaving my cat upon the ground, I looked up to heaven, 
and was as if I had, with the eyes of my understanding, 
seen the Lord Jesus looking down upon me, as being very 
hotly displeased with me, and as if he did severely threaten 
me with some grievous punishment for these and other 
ungodly practices/^ 

The voice he believed was from heaven; and it may be 
inferred, from his relation, that though he was sensible the 
vision was only seen with the mind's eye, he deemed il not 
the less real. The effect was to fasten upon his spirit a sud- 
den and dreadful conclusion, that it was too late for him 
to turn away from his wickedness, for Christ would not 
forgive him. He felt his heart sink in despair; and this 
insane reasoning passed in his mind, "My state is surely 
miserable, — miserable if I leave my sins, and but miserable 
if I follow them. I can but be damned ; and if I must be 
so, I had as good be damned for many sins, as be damned 
for few." Thus he says, "I stood in the midst of my play, 
before all that were present, but yet I told them nothing; 
but having made this conclusion, I returned desperately 
to my sport again. And I well remember that presently 
this kind of despair did so possess my soul, that I was 
persuaded I could never attain to other comfort than what 
I should get in sin; for heaven was gone already, so that 
on that I must not think. Wherefore I found within me 
/^re^t dpsire to take my fill of sin, still studying what sin 
was yet to be committed, that I might taste the sweetness of 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN, & 

it, — ^lest I should die before I had my desires. In these 
things, I protest before God, I lie not; neither do I frame 
this sort of speech: these were really, strongly, and with 
all my heart, my desires. The good Lord, whose mercy 
i& unsearchable, forgive me my transgressions !" 

When thus faithfully describing the state of his feelings 
at that time, Bunyan was not conscious that he exaggerated 
the character of his oiiences. Yet, in another part of his 
Writings, he qualifies those offences more truly, where he 
gpeaks of himself as having been addicted to ^'^all manner 
^f youthful vanities;" and this relation itself is accom- 
panied with a remark, that it is a usual temptation of the 
devil, "to overrun the spirits with a scurvy and seared 
frame of heart, and benumbing of conscience;" so that, 
though there be not much guilt attending the poor crea- 
tures who are thus tempted, "yet they continually have a 
secret conclusion within them, that there is no hope for 
them." This state lasted with him little more than a 
month; it then happened, that as he stood at a neighbor's 
shop-window, "cursing and swearing, and playing the mad- 
man," after his wonted manner, the woman of the house 
heard him; and though she was, he says, a very loose and 
ungodly wretch, she told him that he made her tremble 
to hear him ; "that he was the ungodliest fellow for swear- 
ing that ever she had heard in all her life; and that, by 
thus doing, he was able to spoil all the youth in the whole 
town, if they came but in his company." The reproof came 
with more effect than if it had come from a better person. 
It silenced him, and put him to secret shame; and that, 
too, as he thought, '*l3ef ore the God of heaven ; wherefore," 
he says, "while I stood there, and hanging down my head, 
I wished with all my heart that I might be a little child 
again, that my father might learn me to speak without 
this wicked way of swearing ; for, thought I, I am so accus- 
tomed to it, that it is in vain for me to think of a ref orma- 



Iff LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN, 

tion." From that hour, however, the reformation of this, 
the only actual sin to which he was addicted, began. Even 
to his own wonder it took place, and he who till then had 
not known how to speak unless he put an oath before and 
another behind to make his words have authority, dis- 
covered that he could speak better and more pleasantly 
without such expletives than he had ever done before. 

Soon afterwards he fell in company witji a poor man 
who talked to him concerning religion and the scriptures, 
in a manner which took his attention, and sent him to his 
Bible. He began to take pleasure in reading it, especially 
the historical parts; the Epistles he says he '^could not 
away with, being as yet ignorant both of the corruption of 
our nature and of the want and worth of Christ to save 
us." And this produced such a change in his whole de- 
portment, that his neighbors took him to be a new man, 
and were amazed at his conversion from prodigious pro- 
faneness to a moral and religious life. They began to speak 
well of him, both to his face and behind his back, and he 
was well pleased at having obtained, and, as he thought, 
deserved, their good opinion. And yet, he says, "I was 
nothing but a poor, painted hypocrite, — I did all I did 
either to be seen of, or to be well spoken of by men. I 
knew not Christ, nor Grace, nor Faith, nor Hope; and 
as I have well seen since, had I then died, my state had 
been most fearful." 

Bunyan had formerly taken great delight in bell-ring- 
ing; but now that his conscience '"began to be tender," 
he thought it "a vain practice," in other words, a sin; 
yet he so hankered after this his old exercise, that though 
he durst not pull a rope himself, he would go and look 
at the ringers, not without a secret feeling that to do so 
was unbecoming the religious character which he now pro- 
fessed. A fear came upon him that one of the bells might 
fall. To secure himself against such an aeicdent, he stood 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 11 

Tinder a beam that lay athwart the steeple, from side to 
side; but his apprehensions being once aAvakened, he then 
considered that the bell might fall with a swing, hit the 
wall first, rebound, and to strike him in its descent. Upon 
this he retired to the steeple-door, thinking himself safe 
enough there, for if the bell should fall he could slip out. 
Further than the door he did not venture, nor did he 
long continue to think himself secure there; for the next 
fancy which possessed him was that the steeple itself might 
fall ; and this so possessed him and so shook his mind, that 
he dared not stand at the door longer but fled for fear the 
tower should come down upon him, — to such a stsate 
of nervous wealmess had a diseased feeling brought his 
strong body and strong mind. The last amusement from 
which he weaned himself was that of dancing. It was a 
full year before he could quite leave that; but in so doing, 
and in anything in which he thought he was performing 
his duty, he had such a peace of mind, such satisfaction, 
that — "to relate it," he says, "in mine own way, I thought 
no man in England could please God better than I. Poor 
wretch as I was, I was all this while ignorant of Jesus 
Christ, and going about to establish my own righteousness, 
and had perished therein, had not God in mercy showed me 
more of my state of nature." 

Some of the Ranters' books were put into Bunyan's 
hands. Their effect was to perplex him. He read in them, 
and thought upon them, and betook himself properly and 
earnestly thus to prayer: "Lord, I am not able to know 
the truth from error, leave me not to my own blindness, 
either to approve of, or condemn, this doctrine. If it be 
of God, let me not despise it; if it be of the Devil, let me 
not embrace it. Lord, I lay my soul in this matter only 
at thy feet ; let me not be deceived, I humbly beseech thee !" 
And he was not deceived ; for though he fell in with many 
persons, who, from a strict profession of religion, had 



12 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

persuaded themselves that having now attained to the per'* 
fection of the Saints^ they were discharged from all obli- 
gations of morality, and nothing which it might please 
them them to do would be accounted to them as sin, — 
neither their evil arguments nor their worse example in- 
fected him. "Oh," he saj'S, "these temptations were suit- 
able to my flesh, I being but a young man, and my nature 
in its prime; but God, who had, as I hope, designed me 
for better things, kept me in the fear of his name, and 
did not suffer me to accept such cursed principles. And 
blessed be God, who put it in my heart to cry to him to 
be kept and directed, still distrusting mine own wisdom.'* 
These people could neither corrupt his conscience not 
impose upon his understanding; he had no sympathies 
with them. But one day when he was tinkering in the 
streets of Bedford, he overheard three or four poor women, 
who, as they sat at a door in the sunshinp, were conversing 
about their own spiritual state. He was himself "a brisk 
talker in the matter of religion;'' but these persons were, 
in their discourse, "far above his reach." Their talk was 
about a new birth, — how they were convinced of their mis- 
erable state by nature, — how God had visited their souls 
with his love in the Lord Jesus, — with what words and 
promises they had been refreshed and supported against 
the temptations of the Devil, — how they had been afflicted 
under the assaults of the enemy, and how they had been 
borne up ; and of their own wretchedness of heart, and of 
their unbelief, and the insuflRciency of their own righteous- 
ness. "Methought," says Bunyan, "they spake, as if you 
did make them speak. They spake with such pleasantness 
of Scripture language, and with such appearance of grace 
in all they said, that they were to me as if they had found 
a new world, as if they were ^people that dwelt alone, and 
were not to be reckoned among tlieir neighbors.' " He felt 
his own heart shake as he heard tliem; and when he turned 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 13 

away, and went about his employment again, their talk 
went with him, for he had heard enough to convince him 
that he "wanted the true tokens of a true godly man," 
and to convince him also of the blessed condition of him 
that was indeed one. 

He made it his business, therefore, frequently to seek the 
conversation of these women. They were members of a 
small Baptist congregation which a Kentish man, John 
Gilford by name, had formed at Bedford. The first effect 
of his conversation with them was that he began to look 
into the Bible with new eyes, and "indeed was never out 
of it," either by reading or meditation. He now took de- 
light in St. Paul's Epistles, which before he "could not 
away with;" and the first strong impression which they 
made upon him was that he wanted the gifts of wisdom 
and knowledge of which the Apostle speaks, and was 
doubtful whether he had faith or not; yet this was a doubt 
which he could not bear, being certain that if he were with- 
out faith, he must perish. Being "put to his plunge" about 
this, and not as yet consulting with any one, he conceived 
that the only means by which he could be certified was 
by trying to work a miracle, a delusion which he says the 
tempter enforced and strengthened by urging upon him 
those texts of Scripture that seemed to look that way. One 
day, as he was between Elstow and Bedford, the tempta- 
tion was hot upon him that he should put this to the proof 
by saying "to the puddles that were in the horse-pads, he 
dry; and to the dry places, he ye puddles! And truly one 
time I was going to say so, indeed; but just as I was about 
to speak, this thought came in my mind, "but go under 
yonder hedge, and pray first that God would make you 
able.' But when I had concluded to pray, this came hot 
upon me, that if I prayed and came again, and tried to 
do it, and yet did nothing notwithstanding, then to be sure 
I had no faith, but was a castaway, and lost. Nay, thought 



14 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

I, if it be so, I will not try yet, but will stay a little 
longer." 

About this time the happiness of his poor acquaintance 
whom he believed to be in a sanctified state was presented 
to him, he says, in a kind of vision, — that is, it became the 
subject of a reverie, a waking dream, — in which the germ 
of the "Pilgrim's Progress" may plainly be perceived. "I 
saw," he says, "as if they were on the sunny side of some 
high mountain, there refreshing themselves with the pleas- 
ant beams of the sun, while I was shivering and shrinking 
in the cold, afflicted with frost, snow, and dark clouds. 
Methought, also, betwixt me and them I saw a wall that 
did compass about this mountain. Now through this wall 
my soul did greatly desire to pass; concluding that if I 
could, I would even go into the very midst of them, and 
there also comfort myself with the heat of their sun. About 
this wall I thought myself to go again and again, still 
praying as I went, to see if I could find some way or 
passage, by which I might enter therein; but none could 
I find for some time. At the last I saw, as it were, a 
narrow gap, like a little doorway, in the wall, through 
which I attempted to pass. Now the passage being very 
strait and narrow, I made many offers to get in, but all in 
vain, even until I was well nigh quite beat out by striving 
to get in. At last, with great striving, methought I at first 
did get in my head ; and after that, by a sideling striving, 
my shoulders, and my whole body; then was I exceeding 
glad, went and sat down in the midst of them, and so was 
comforted with the light and heat of their sun. Now the 
Mountain and Wall, etc., was thus made out to me. The 
Mountain signified the Church of the Living God ; the Sun 
that shone thereon, the comfortable shining of his merciful 
Face on them that were within ; the Wall, I thought, was 
the Word, that did make separation between the Christians 
and the World: and the Gap which was in the Wall, I 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN, 15 

thought, was Jesus Christ, who is the Way to God the 
Father. But forasmuch as the passage was wonderful nar- 
row, even so narrow that I could not but with great diffi- 
culty enter in thereat, it showed me that none could enter 
into life but those that were in downright earnest; and 
unless, also, they left that wicked World behind them ; for 
here was only room for Body and Soul, but not for Body 
and Soul and Sin/' 

But though he now prayed wherever he was, at home or 
abroad, in the house or in the field, two doubts still as- 
saulted him, — whether he was elected, and whether the day 
of grace was not gone b}^ By the force and power of the 
first he felt, even when he "was in a flame to find the way 
to Heaven," as if the strength of his body were taken from 
him; and he found a stumbling-block in this text, "it is 
neither in him that willeth, nor in him that runneth, but in 
God that showeth mercy.'^ (Romans, ix. 16; 2 Ecclesi- 
asticus, ii. 10.) It seemed to him that though he should 
desire and long and labor till his heart broke, no good could 
come of it, unless he were a chosen vessel of mercy. 
"Therefore," he says, "this would stick with me, ^how can 
you tell that you are elected ? and what if you should not ?* 
Oh, Lord, thought I, what if I should not, indeed ! It 
may be you or not, said the tempter. It may be so, indeed, 
thought I. Why, then, said Satan, you had as good leave 
off, and strive no further." And then the text that dis- 
turbed him came again into his mind ; and he knowing not 
what to say or how to answer, was "driven to his wit's end, 
little dreaming," he says, "that Satan had thus assaulted 
him, but that it was his own prudence which had started 
the question." In an evil hour were the doctrines of the 
Gospel sophisticated with questions which should have been 
left in the schools for those who are unwise enough to em- 
ploy themselves in excogitations of useless subtility! 
Many are the poor creatures whom such questions have 



~ie LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

"^ven lc despair and madness, and suicide; and no one 
in^re narrowly escaped from such, a catastrophe than 
Bunyan. 

After many weeks, when he was even "giving up the 
ghost i^ a'Pi his hopes," another text suddenly occurred to 
him : "Look at the generations of old, and see, did any 
ever trust in the Lord, and was confounded ?" He went, with 
lightened heart, to his Bible, fully expecting to find it 
there; but he found it not, and the "good people" whom 
he asked where it was, told him they knew of no such place. 
But in the Bible he was well assured it was, and the text 
which had "seized upon his heart with such comfort and 
strength," abode upon him for more than a year; when, 
looking into the Apocrypha (Ecclesiasticus, ii. 10), there 
he met with it ; and was at first, he says, somewhat daunted 
at finding it there, not in the canonical books. "Yet," he 
says, "forasmuch as this sentence was the sum and sub- 
stance of many of the promises, it was my duty to take the 
comfort of it; and I blessed God for that word, for it was 
of good to me." But then the other doubt, which had lain 
dormant, awoke again in strength. "How if the day of grace 
be past? "What if the good people of Bedford who were al- 
ready converted, were all that were to be saved in those 
parts?" He then was too late, for they had got the bless- 
ing before he came ! "Oh, that I had turned sooner," was 
then his cry. "Oh, that I had turned seven years ago ! To 
think that I should trifle away my time, till my Soul and 
Heaven were lost !'* 

From these fears the occurrence of another passage in 
Scripture delivered him for a while, and he has remarked 
that it came into his mind just in the same place where 
he "received his other encouragement." The text was that 
in which the servant who had been sent into the streets 
and lanes to bring in the poor, and the maimed, and the 
halt, and the blind, to the supper from which the bidden 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 17 

guests absented themselves, returns and says to the mast^v 
of the house, "Lord, it is done as thou hast commanded^ 
and yet there is room!" (Luke, xiv. 22.) "These," say* 
Bunyan, "were sweet words to me ! for truly I thought thai) 
by them I saw there was place enough in Heaven for me; 
and moreover that when the Lord Jesus did speak these 
words. He then did think of me; and that He, knowing 
the time would come when I should be afflicted with fear 
that there was no place left for me in His bosom, did speak 
this word, and leave it upon record, that I might find help 
thereby against this vile temptation. This I then verily 
believed." 

Bnt then came another fear. None but those who are 
called, can inherit the kingdom of Heaven; and this he 
apprehended was not his case. With longings and 
breathings in his soul which, he says, are not to be ex- 
pressed, he cried on Christ to call him, being "all on a 
flame" to be in a converted state. "Gold ! could it have 
been gotten for gold, what would I have given for it! 
Had I a whole world, it had all gone ten thousand times 
over for this." Much as he had formerly respected and 
venerated the ministers of the Church, with higher ad- 
miration he now regarded those who, he thought, had at- 
tained to the condition for which he was longing. They 
were "lovely in his eyes; they shone, they walked, like a 
people that carried the broad seal of Heaven about them." 
When he read of those whom our Saviour called, when he 
was upon earth, to be his diciples, the wishes which his 
heart conceived were, "Would I had been Peter ; . . .would 
I had been John : . . . or would I had been by and heard 
Him when He called them ! How would I have cried, 
Lord, call me also !" In this state of mind, but comfort* 
ing himself with hoping that if he were not already con- 
verted, the time might come when he should be so, he 
imparted his feelings to those poor women whose conversa- 



18 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

tion had first brought him into these perplexities and 
struggles. They reported his case to Mr. Gifford, and 
Gifford took occasion to talk with him, and invited him to 
his house, where he might hear him confer with others 
"about the dealings of God with their souls." 

This course was little likely to compose a mind so agi- 
tated. What he heard in such conferences rather induced 
fresh disquiet, and misery of another kind. The inward 
wretchedness of his wicked heart, he says, began now to be 
discovered to him, and to work as it had never done be- 
fore. He was now conscious of sinful thoughts and de- 
sires, which he had not till then regarded; and, in per- 
suading him that his heart was innately and wholly wicked, 
his spiritual physician had well nigh made him believe 
that it was hopelessly and incurably so. In vain did those 
to whom x^e applied for consolation tell him of the prom- 
ises. They might as well have told him to reach the sun, as 
to rely upon the promises, he says. Original and inward 
pollution was the plague and affliction which made him 
loathsome in his own eyes; and, as in his dreadful state 
of mind, he believed, in the eyes of his Creator also! Sin 
and Corruption, he thought, would as naturally bubble 
out of his heart as water from a fountain. None but the 
Devil, he was persuaded, could equal him for inward 
wickedness ! "Sure,'' thought he, "I am forsaken of God ! 
Sure I am given up to the Devil, and to a reprobate mind ! 
I am sorry that God had made me man. I counted myself 
alone, and, above the most of men, unblessed !" These were 
not the torments of a guilty conscience; for he observes 
that "the guilt of the sins of his ignorance was never much 
charged upon him;" and as to the act of sinning, during 
the years that he continufd in this pitiable state, no man 
could more scrupulously avoid what seemed to him sinful 
in thought, word or deed. "Oh,'' he says, "how gingerly 
did I then go, in all I did or said. I found myself as i:^ 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 19 

a miry bog that shook if I did but stir, and was as there 
left both of God and Christ, and the Spirit, and all good 
things/' False notions of that corruption of our nature 
which it is almost as perilous to exaggerate as to dissemble, 
had laid upon him a burthen heavy as that with which his 
own Christian begins his pilgrimage. 

The first comfort which he received, and which, had 
there not been a mist before his understanding, he might 
have found in every page of the Gospel, came to him in a 
sermon, upon a strange text, strangely handled : "Behold, 
thou art fair, my Love; behold, thou art fair!" (Solo- 
mon's Song, iv. 1.) The Preacher made the words ''my 
Love" his chief and subject matter ; and one sentence fas- 
tened upon Bunyan's mind. "If," said the Preacher, "it 
be so, that the saved Soul is Christ's Love when under 
temptation and destruction, then, poor tempted Soul, when 
thou art assaulted and afflicted with temptations, and the 
hidings of God's face, yet think on these two word, 'My 
Love; still !" VAiat shall I get by thinking on these two 
words? said Bunyan to himself, as he returned home, ru- 
minating upon this discourse. And then, twenty times to- 
gether, "thou art my Love, thou art my Love," recurred 
in mental repetition, kindling his spirit ; and still, he says, 
^'as they ran in my mind they waxed stronger and warmer, 
and began to make me look up. But, being as yet be- 
tween hope and fear, I still replied, in my heart, "but is 
it true ! but it is true !' At which that sentence fell upon 
me, 'He wist not that it was true which was come unto 
him of the Angel.' (Acts, xii. 9.) Then I began to give 
place to the Word,— and now I could believe that my sins 
should be forgiven me; yea, I was now tpk^n w^'tj? the Io^p 
and mercy of God, that, 1 remember, 1 could not tell now 
to contain till I got home. I thought I could have spoken 
of His love, and have told of His mercy to me, even to 
the very crows that sat upon the ploughed lands before 



20 LIFE OF JOHN BUN Y AN. 

me, had they been capable to have -understood me. Whei^ 
fore I said in my soul, with much gladness. Well, I would 
I had a pen and ink here, I would write this down before 
I go any farther, for surely I will not forget this forty 
years hence. But, alas! within less than forty days I be- 
gan to question all again !" 

Shaken continually thus by the hot and cold fits of a 
spiritual ague, his imagination was brought to a state of 
excitement in which its own shapings became vivid as 
realities, and affected him more forcibly than impres- 
sions from the external world. He heard sounds, as in a 
dream; and, as in a dream, held conversations which were 
inwardly audible though no sounds were uttered, and had 
all the connection and coherency of an actual dialogue. 
Eeal they were to him in the impression which they made, 
and in their lasting effect; and even afterwards, when his 
soul was at peace, he believed them, in cool a?id sober re- 
flection, to have been more than natural. Some few days 
after the sermon, he was much ^^followed," he says, by these 
words of the Gospel: "Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath 
desired to have you!" (Luke, xxii. 31.) He knew that it 
was a voice from within, and yet it was so articulately 
distinct, so loud, and called, as he says, so strongly after 
him, that once in particular when the words, "Simon? 
Simon !" rung in his ears, he verily thought some man had 
called to him from a distance behind; and though it was 
not his name supposed nevertheless that it was addressed 
to him, and looked round suddenly to see by whom. As this 
had been the loudest, so it was the last time that the call 
sounded in his ears, and he imputes it to his ignorance and 
foolishness at that time, that he knew not the reason of 
it ; for soon, he says, he was feelingly convinced that it was 
sent from Heaven as an alarm for him to provide against 
the coming storm, — a storm which "handled him twenty 
times worse than all he had met with before.^' 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 21 

But while Bunyan suffered thus grievously under the be- 
lief that these thoughts and fancies were the immediate 
suggestions of the Evil Spirit, that belief made him at 
times more passionate in prayer; and then his heart ^put 
forth itself with inexpressible groanings," and his whole 
soul was in every word. And although he had not been 
taught in childhood to lay up the comfortable promises 
of the Gospel in his heart and in his soul, that they might 
be as a sign upon his hand and as a frontlet between his 
eyes, yet he had not read the Bible so diligently without 
some profit. When he mused upon these words in the 
Prophet Jeremiah, "thou hast played the harlot with many 
lovers, yet, return again to me, saith the Lord,'' (Jer. iii. 
i.), he felt that they were some support to him, as apply- 
ing to his case; and so, also, was that saying of the same 
Prophet (Jer. v. 4), that though we have done and spoken 
as evil things as we could, yet shall we cry unto God, "My 
Father, thou art the guide of my youth !" and return unto 
him. More consolation he derived from the Apostle, who 
says, "He hath made Him to be sin for us, who knew no 
sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in 
Him." (2 Cor. 21.) And again, "For I am persuaded that 
neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor 
powers, nor things present, nor things to come ; nor height, 
nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate 
us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our 
Lord." (Rom. 8: 38, 39.) This also was a help to him, 
"Because I love, ye shall love also !" (John 14: 19.) These, 
he says, were ^Tjut hints, touches, and short visits; very 
sweet when present, only they lasted not." Yet after a while 
he felt himself not only delivered from the guilt which 
these things laid upon his conscience, ^^ut also from the 
very filth thereof." The temptation was removed, and he 
thought himself "put into his right mind again." 

While Bunyan was in this state, a translation of Luther'a 



22 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

Cbmmentary on the Epistle to the Galatians fell into his 
hands, — an old book, so tattered and thumb-worn, "that it 
was ready to fall piece from piece if he did but turn it over." 
Here, in the work of that passionate and mighty mind, he 
saw his own soul reflected in a glass. "I had but a little 
way perused it,'^ he says, "when I found my condition in 
his experience so largely and profoundly handled as if his 
book had been written out of my heart^^ And in later life 
he thought it his duty to declare that he preferred this book 
of Martin Luther before all the books he had ever seen 
(the Bible alone excepted), as fittest for a wounded con- 
science. 

Mr. Coleridge has delineated, with his wonted and pe- 
culiar ability, the strong resemblance between Luther and 
Eousseau, — men who, to ordinary observers, would appear 
in the constitution of their minds most unlike each other. 
In different stages of his mental and spiritual growth, Bun-^ 
yan had resembled both: like Rousseau, he had been 
tempted to set the question of his salvation upon a cast; 
like Luther, he had undergone the agonies of unbelief and 
deadly fear, and, according to his own persuasion, wrestled 
with the Enemy. I know not whether any parallel is to be 
found for him in the next and strangest part of his history ; 
for now, when he was fully convinced that his faith had 
been confirmed by special evidence from Heaven, when his 
desire was to die and be with Christ, an almost unimagin- 
lable temptation, which he might well call more grievous 
and dreadful than any with which he had before been af- 
flicted, came upon him ; it was "to sell and part with Christ, , 
— to exchange him for the things of this life, — for any- 
thing." For the space of a year he was haunted by this 
strange and hateful suggestion ; and so continually that he 
was "not rid of it one day in a month, nor sometimes one 
hour in many succeeding days," unless in his sleep. It in- 
termixed itself with whatever he thought or did. "I could- 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 23 

neither eat my food/^ he says, "stoop for a pin, chop a stick, 
or cast mine eye to look on this or that, but still the tempta- 
tion would come, ^sell Christ for this, or sell Christ for 
that; sell Him, sell Him, sell Him!' Sometimes it would 
run in my thoughts not so little as an hundred times to- 
gether, ''sell Him, sell Him, sell Him, sell Him !' Against 
which, I may say, for whole hours together, I have been 
forced to stand as continually leaning and forcing my spirit 
against it, lest haply, before I were aware, some wicked 
thought might arise in my heart, that might consent 
thereto : and sometimes the Tempter would make me believe 
I had consented to it; but then should I be tortured upon 
a rack for whole days together. This temptation did put 
me to such scares, — that, by the very force of my mind, 
in laboring to gainsay and resist this wickedness, my very 
body would be put into action, — ^by way of pushing or 
thrusting with my hands or elbows, still answering as fast 
as the Destroyer said Ml Him,' *I will not! I will not! 
I will not ! No, not for thousands, thousands, thousands of 
worlds !' and thus did I scarce know where I was, or how to 
be composed again/' 

In this strange state of mind he had continued about a 
year, when, one morning as he lay in bed, the wicked sug- 
gestion still running in his mind, "sell Him, sell Him, sell 
Him, sell Him,'' as fast as a man could speak, and he 
answering as fast. "No, no, not for thousands, thousands, 
thousands," till he was almost out of breath, he felt this 
thought pass through his heart. "Let Him go if He will," 
and it seemed to him that his heart freely consented thereto. 
*'0h," he exclaims, "the diligence of Satan! Oh, the 
desperateness of man's heart! Now was the battle won, 
and down fell I, as a bird that is shot, from the top of a 
tree, into great guilt and fearful despair. Thus getting 
out of my bed, I went moping into the field, but God knows 
with as heavy a heart as mortal man, I think, could bear; 



24 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

where, for the space of two hours, I was like a man bereft 
of life; and as now past all recovery, and bound over to 
eternal punishment." Then it occurred to him what is 
said of Esau by the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews 
(Heb. 12: 16, 17), now having sold his birthright, when 
he would afterwards have inherited the blessing, he was 
rejected; for ^Tie found no place of repentance, though he 
sought it carefully with tears." At the recollection of a bet- 
ter text (John 1:7), the words of that disciple (blessed 
above all men), whom Jesus loved, he had for a while such 
relief that he began to conceive peace in his soul again, "and 
methought," says he, "I saw as if the Tempter did leer 
and steal away from me as being ashamed of what he had 
done." But this was only like a passing gleam of sunshine : 
the sound of Esau's fate was always in his ears ; his case 
was worse than Esau's, worse than David's; Peter's came 
nigher to it; yet Peter's Avas only a denial of his master, 
this a selling of his Saviour. He came nearer, therefore, 
to Judas than to Peter! And though he was yet sane 
enough to consider that the sin of Judas had been de- 
liberately committed, whereas his, on the contrary, was 
'^against his prayer and striving, — in a fearful hurry, on a 
sudden," the relief which that consideration brought was 
but little, and only for a while. The sentence concerning 
Esau, literally taken and more unhappily applied, fell like 
a hot thunderbolt upon his conscience; "then should I, for 
whole days together, feel my very body, as well as my 
mind, to shake and totter under the sense of this dreadful 
judgment of God; — such a clogging and heat also at my 
stomach, by reason of this my terror, that I was sometimes 
as if my breastbone would split asunder." And then he 
called to mind how Judas burst asunder; and feared that 
a continual trembling like his was the very mark that had 
been set on Cain; and thus did he "twist, and twine, and 
shrink" under a burthen which so oppressed him that he 



'LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 25 

could "neither stand, nor go, nor lie, either at rest or quiet." 
This fatal sentence possessed him so strongly that when 
thinking on the words in Isaiah, "I have blotted out as a 
thick cloud thy transgressions, and as a cloud thy sins; 
return unto me, for I have redeemed thee" (Isa. 44: 32) ; 
and when it seemed to his diseased imagination that this 
text called audibly and loudly after him, as if pursuing 
him, so loudly as to make him, he says, look, as it were, 
over his shoulder, behind him, to see if the God of Grace 
were following him with a pardon in His hand, — the echo 
of the same sentence still sounded in his conscience; and 
when he heard, "Return unto me, for I have redeemed thee ; 
return, return !'' articulated, as it seemed to him, with a 
loud voice, it was overpowered by the inward echo, "he 
found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully 
with tears/^ 

It was at a meeting with his fellow-believers, when his 
fears again were prevailing, that the words for which he 
longed, according to his own expression, "broke in" upon 
him, "My Grace is sufficient for thee, my Grace is sufficient 
for thee, my Grace is sufficient for thee," — ^three times to- 
gether. He was then as though he had seen the Lord look 
down from Heaven upon him, "through the tiles," and 
direct these words to him. It sent him mourning home; 
it broke his heart, and filled him full of joy, and laid him 
low as the dust. And now he began to venture upon exam- 
ining "those most fearful and terrible Scriptures," on 
which, till now he dared scarcely cast his eyes, "yea, had 
much ado an hundred times to forbear wishing them out of 
the Bible." He began "to come close to them, to read them, 
and consider them, and to weigh their scope and tendency." 
The result was a clear perception that he had not fallen 
quite away; that his sin, though devilish, had not been 
consented to, and put in practice, and that after delibera- 
tion, — not public and open; that the texts which had 



126 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

hitherto so appalled him were 3^et consistent with those 
which proffered forgiveness and salvation. "And now re- 
mained only the hinder part of the tempest, for the thun- 
der was gone past ; only some drops did still remain." And 
when one day, in the field, the words "Thy righteousness is 
in Heaven'^ occurred to him, "methought, withal," he says, 
^'1 saw with the eyes of my soul, Jesus Christ at God's right 
hand, — there, I say, is my righteousness, — for my right- 
eousness was Christ himself, 'the same yesterday, and to- 
day, and forever.'" (Heb. 13:8.) Then his chains fell 
off in very deed ; he was loosed from his affliction, and his 
temptation fled away. 

This was after two years and a half of incessant agita- 
tion and wretchedness. Bunyan thought he could trace the 
cause of this long temptation to a sin which he had com- 
mitted, and to a culpable omission. He had, during the 
time when doubt and unbelief assailed him, tempted the 
Lord by asking of him a sign whereby it might appear that 
the secret thoughts of the heart were known to him ; and he 
had omitted, when praying earnestly for the removal of 
present troubles, and for assurances of faith, to pray that 
he might be kept from temptation. "This," he says, "I 
had not done, and therefore was thus suffered to sin and 
fall. And truly this very thing is to this day of such 
weight and awe upon me, that I dare not, when I come be- 
fore the Lord, go off my knees, until I entreat Him for 
help and mercy against the temptations that are to come: 
and I do beseech thee, Eeader, that thou learn to beware 
of my negligence, by the affliction that for this thing I 
did, for days, and months, and years, with sorrow undergo." 
Far more satisfactorily could he trace in himself the bene- 
fits which he derived from this long and dreadful course of 
suffering, under which a weaker body must have sunk, and 
from which it is almost miraculous that any mind should 
have escaped without passing into incurable insanity. Be- 



/ f f7 



IFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 27 

fore that trial, his soul had been '^perplexed with unbelief, 
blasphemy, hardness of heart, questions about the Being 
of God, Christ, the truth of the Word, and certainty of 
the world to come." ^^Then," he says, "I was greatly as- 
saulted and tormented with atheism ; but now the case was 
otherwise; now was God and Christ continually before my 
face, though not in a way of comfort, but in a way of 
exceeding dread and terror. The glory of the holiness of 
God did at this time break me to pieces ; and the bowels and 
compassion of Christ did break me as on the wheel; for I 
could not consider him but as a lost and rejected Christ, 
the remembrance of which was as the continual breaking 
of my bones. The Scriptures also were wonderful things 
unto me. I saw that the truth and verity of them were the 
keys of the kingdom of Heaven; those that the Scriptures 
favor, they must inherit bliss; but those that they oppose 
and condemn, must perish for evermore. Oh ! one sentence 
of the Scripture did more afflict and terrify my mind — I 
mean those sentences that stood against me (as sometimes 
I thought they every one did) — more, I say, than an army 
of forty thousand men that might come against me. Woe 
be to him against whom the Scriptures bend themselves !" 
But this led him to search the Bible and dwell upon it 
with an earnestness and intensity which no determination 
of a calmer mind could have commanded. "This made 
me," he says, "with careful heart and watchful eye, with 
great fearfulness, to turn over every leaf, and with much 
diligence mixed with trembling to consider every sentence, 
together with its natural force and attitude. By this, also, 
I was greatly holden off my former foolish practice of 
putting by the Word of Promise when it came into my 
mind: for now, though I could not suck that comfort and 
sweetness from the promise as I had done at other times, 
yea, like to a man a-sinking, I should catch at all I saw; 
formerly I thought I might not meddle with the Promise, 



28 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

unless I felt its comfort ; but now 'twas no time thus to do, 
the Avenger of Blood too hardly did pursue me." If, in 
the other writings of Bunyan, and especially in that which 
has made his name immortal, we discover none of that fer- 
vid language in which his confessions and self-examination 
are recorded, — none of those "thoughts that breathe and 
words that burn/' — ^none of that passion in which the 
reader so far participates as to be disturbed and distressed 
by it, — ^here we perceive how he acquired that thorough 
and familiar acquaintance with the Scriptures which in 
these works is manifested. "Now, therefore, I was glad," 
he says, "to catch at that Word, which yet I had no ground 
or right to own; and even to leap into the bosom of that 
Promise that yet I feared did shut its heart against me. 
Now, also, I should labor to take the Word as God hath laid 
it down, without restraining the natural force of one syllable 
thereof. Oh, what did I now see in that blessed sixth of 
John, "and him that comes to me I will in no ivise cast out.'* 
(John vi. 37.) Now I began to consider with myself that 
God hath a bigger mouth to speak with than I had a heart 
to conceive with. I thought also with myself that He 
spake not His words in haste, or in an unadvised heat, but 
with infinite wisdom and judgment, and in very truth and 
faithfulness. I should in these days, often in my greatest 
agonies, even flounce towards the Promise (as the horses do 
towards sound ground, that yet stick in the mire), con- 
cluding (though as one almost bereft of his wits through 
fear) ^on this I will rest and stay, and leave the fulfilling 
of it to the God of Heaven that made it!' Oh, many a 
pull hath my heart had with Satan for that blessed sixth 
of John ! I did not now, as at other times, look principally 
for comfort (though, oh, how welcome would it have been 
unto me !), but now, a Word, a Word to lean a weary soul 
upon, that it might not sink for ever I 'twas that I hunted 
for ! Yea, often when I have been making to the Promise, 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 29 

I have seen as if the Lord would refuse my soul for ever. 
I was often as if I had run upon the pikes, and as if the 
Lord had thrust at me, to keep me from Him, as with a 
flaming sword V 

When Bunyan passed from this horrible condition into a 
ntate of happy feeling, his mind was nearly overthrown by 
the transition. "I had two or three times," he says, "at or 
about my deliverance from this temptation, such strange 
apprehensions of the Grace of God that I could hardly 
bear up under it. It was so out of measure amazing when 
I thought it could reach me, that I do not think if that sense 
qI it had abode long upon me, it would have made me un- 
capable of business." He had not, however, yet attained 
to that self-control which belongs to a sane mind ; for, after 
he had formally been admitted into fellowship with Gif- 
ford's little congregation, and had been by him baptized ac- 
cordingly, by immersion, probably in the river Ouse (for 
the Baptists at that time sought rather than shunned pub- 
licity on such occsaions), he was for nearly a year pestered 
with strange and villainous thoughts whenever he communi- 
cated at the meeting. These, however, left him. When threat- 
ened with consumption at one time, he was delivered from 
"he fear of dissolution, by faith, and the strong c?esire of 
^'ntering upon eternal life, and in another illness, when the 
thought of approaching death for a while overcame him, 
%ehold," he says, "as I was in the midst of those fears, 
thii words of the Angels carrying Lazarus into Abraham^s 
bosom, darted in upon me, as who should say, ''so shall it 
be with thee when thou dost leave this world!' This did 
sweetly revive my spirits, and help me to hope in God; 
which, when I had with comfort mused on a while, that 
Word fell with great weight upon my mind, 'Oh, Death, 
where is thy sting? Oh, Grave, where is thy victory?' 
At this I became both well in body and mind at once; 



30 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

for my sickness did presently vanish, and I walked com- 
fortably in my work for God again." 

But the wickedness of the Tinker has been greatly over- 
charged; and it is taking the language of self -accusation 
too literally to pronounce of John Bunyan that he was at 
any time depraved. The worst of what he was in his worst 
days is to be expressed in a single word, for which we have 
no synonym, the full meaning of which no circumlocution 
can convey, and which, though it may hardly be deemed 
presentable in serious composition, I shall use, as Bunyan 
himself (no mealy-mouthed writer) would have used it, 
had it in his days borne the same acceptation in which it 
is now universally understood. In that word, then, he had 
been a hlaclcguard. 

"The head and front of his offending 
Hath this extent, no more." 

Such he might have been expected to be by his birth, breed- 
ing, and vocation. Scarcely, indeed, by possibility could 
he have been otherwise; but he was never a vicious man. 
It has been seen that the first reproof he shook off, at 
once and forever, the practice of profane swearing, the 
worst if not the only sin to which he was ever addicted. 
He must have been still a very young man when that out- 
ward reformation, took place, which, little as he afterwards 
valued it, and insufficient as it may have been, gave evidence 
at least of right intentions, under the direction of a strong 
will ; and throughout his subsequent struggles of mind, the 
force of a diseased imagination is not more manifest than 
the earnestness of his religious feelings and aspirations. 
His connection with the Baptists was eventually most bene- 
ficial to him. Had it not been for the encouragement 
which he received from them he might have lived and died 
a tinker ; for, even when he cast off, like a slough, the coarse 
habits of his early life, his latent powers could never, with- 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 31 

out some such encouragement and impulse, have broken 
through the thick ignorance with which they were incrusted. 
The coarseness of that incrustation could hardly be con- 
ceived, if proofs of it were not preserved in his own hand- 
writing. There is no book except the Bible which he is 
known to have perused so intently as the Acts and Monu- 
ments of John Fox, the martyrologist, one of the best 
of men, — a work more hastily than judiciously compiled, 
in its earlier parts, but invaluable for that greater and far 
more important portion which has obtained for it its popu- 
lar name of "The Book of Martyrs." Bunyan's own copy 
of this work is in existence, and valued of course as such 
a relic of such a man ought to be. In each volume he has 
written his name beneath the title page in a large and stout 
print-hand, thus : — 



JHN^B 




And under some of the wood-cuts he has inserted a few 
rhymes, which are undoubtedly his own composition; and 
which, though much in the manner of the verses that were 
printed under the illustrations to his own "Pilgrim's 
Progress'^ when that work was first adorned with cuts 
(verses worthy of such embellishments), are very much 
worse than even the worst of those. Indeed, it would not 
be possible to find specimens of more miserable doggerel. 
But as it has been proper to lay before the reader the vivid 
representation of Bunyan in his f?^'""ish state of en- 
thusiasm, that the sobriety of mind into which he settled 
may be the better appreciated and the more admired, so 
for a like reason is it fitting that it should be seen from 
how gross and deplorable a state of ignorance that intellect 



32 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 



which produced the "Pilgrim's Progress" worked its way. 
These, then, are the verses. 

A specimen is here presented, as it appears in his own 
rude handwriting under the martyrdom of Thomas Haukes : 




Under the print of an Owl appearing to a Council held by 
Pope John at Rome. (Acts and Monuments, vol. i. 78.L) 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN, 33 

Both the owle to them apper 
which putt them all into a fear 
Will not the man & trubel crown 
cast the owle unto the ground. 

Under the martyrdom of John Hus. (Acts and Mon., 
Tol. i. 221.) 

heare is John hus that you may see 
nesed in deed with all crulity. 
But now leet us follow & look one him 
Whear he is full field in deed to the brim. 

Under the martyrdom of John Rogers, the Protomartyr 
in the Marian Persecution. (lb., vol. iii., 133.) 

It was the will of X (Christ) that thou should die 
Mr. Eogers his body in the flames to fry. 
Blessed man thou did lead this bloody way, 
how wilt thou shien with X in the last day. 

Under the martyrdom of Lawrence Sanders. (lb., vol, 
iii., 139.) 

Mr Sanders is the next blessed man in deed 
And from all trubels he is made free 
Farewell world & all hear be lo. 
For to my dear Lord I must gooe. 

There is yet one more of these Tinker's tetrastics, penned 
in the margin (vol. iii., p. 527), beside the account of 
Gardner's death. 

the blood the blood that he did shed 
is falling one his one head; 
and dredfull it is for to see 
the beginnes of his misere. 

These curious inscriptions must have been Bunyan's first 
attempts in verse. He had no doubt found difficulty enough 
in tinkering them to make him proud of his work when iu 



34 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

was done; for otherwise he would not have written them 
in a book which was the most valuable of all his goods 
and chattels. In latter days he seems to have taken this 
book for his art of poetry, and acquired from it at length 
the tune and the phraseology of such verses as are there 
inserted, — with a few rare exceptions, they are of Eobert 
Wisdom's school, and something below the pitch of Stern- 
hold and Hopkins. But if he learned there to make bad 
verses, he entered fully into the spirit of its better parts, 
and received that spirit into as resolute a heart as ever beat 
in a martyr's bosom. From the examples which he found 
there, and from the Scriptures, which he perused with such 
intense devotion, he derived "a rapture,'' 

"That raising him from ignorance. 
Carried him up into the air of action 
And knowledge of himself." 

And when, the year after Gifford's death, a resolution was 
passed by the meeting that "some of the brethren (one at a 
time) to whom the Lord may have given a gift, be called 
forth and encouraged to speak a word in the church for 
mutual edification," Bunyan was one of the persons so 
called upon. "Some," he says, "of the most able of the 
Saints with us, — I say, the most able for judgment and 
holiness of life, — as they conceived, did perceive that God 
had counted me worthy to understand something of His 
will in His holy and blessed Word; and had given me ut- 
terance in some measure to express what I saw to others 
for edification. Therefore they desired me, and that with 
much earnestness, that I would be willing at some times 
to take in hand in one of the meetings to speak a word of 
exhortation unto them. The which, though at the first it 
did much dash and abash my spirit, yet being still by them 
desired and entreated, I consented to their request; and 
did twice, at two several assemblies (but in private). 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 35 

though with much weakness and infirmity, discover my 
gift amongst them; at which they not only seemed to be, 
but did solemnly protest, as in the sight of the great God, 
they were both affected and comforted, and gave thanks to 
the Father of Mercies for the grace bestowed on me." 

In those days the supply of public news came so slowly, 
and was so scanty when it came, that even the proceedings 
of so humble an individual as Bunyan became matter of 
considerable attention in the town of Bedford. His ex- 
ample drew many ic the Baptist Meeting, from curiosity 
to discover what had affected him there, and produced such 
a change in his conversation. *'\Vhen I v^ent out to seek the 
Bread of Life, some of them," he says, "would follow, and 
the rest be put into a muse at home. Yea, almost all the 
town, at first, at times would go out to hear at the place 
where I found good. Yea, young and old for a while had 
some reformation on them: also, some of them perceiving 
that God had mercy upon me, came crying to Him for 
mercy too." Bunyan was not one of those enthusiasts who 
thrust themselves forward, in confident reliance upon what 
they suppose to be an inward call. He entered upon his 
probation with diffidence and fear, not daring "to make 
use of his gift in a public way;" and gradually acquired a 
trust in himself, and a consciousness of his own qualifica- 
tions, when some of those who went into the country to dis- 
seminate their principles and make converts, took him in 
their company. Exercising himself thus as occasion offered, 
he was encouraged by the approbation with which others 
heard him ; and in no long time, "after some solemn prayer^ 
with fasting," he was "more particularly called forth, and 
appointed to a more ordinary and public preaching, not 
only to and amongst them that believed, but also to offer the 
Gospel to those who had not yet received the faith thereof." 

The Bedford meeting had at this time its regular min- 
ister, whose name was John Burton ; so that what Bunyan 



36 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

received was a roving commission to itinerate in the villages 
round about, and in this he was so much employed, that 
when in the ensuing year he was nominated for a deacon of 
the congregation, they declined electing him to that office, 
on the ground that he was too much engaged to attend to 
it. Having in previous training overcome his first diffi- 
dence, he now "felt in his mind a secret pricking forward'' 
to this ministry ; not "for desire of vain glory," for he was 
even at that time "sorely afflicted" concerning his own 
eternal state, but because the Scriptures encouraged him, 
by texts which ran continually in his mind, whereby "I 
was made," he says, "to see that the Holy Ghost never in- 
tended that men who have gifts and abilities should bury 
them in the earth, but rather did command and stir up 
such to the exercise of their gift, and also did command 
those that were apt and ready, so to do." Those gifts he 
had, and could not but be conscious of them. He had also 
the reputation of possessing them, so that people came by 
hundreds to hear him from all parts round about, though 
"upon divers accounts," — some to marvel, and some per- 
haps to mock; but some also to listen, and to be "touched 
with a conviction that they needed a Saviour." "But I 
first," he says, "could not believe that God should speak by 
me to the heart of any man, still counting myself unworthy ; 
yet those who were thus touched would love me and have a 
particular respect for me: and though I did put it from 
me that they should be awakened by me, still they would 
confess it, and affirm it before the saints of God. They 
would also bless God for me (unworthy wretch that I am !), 
and count me God's instrument that showed to them the 
way of salvation. Wherefore seeing them in both their 
words and deeds to be so constant, but also in their hearts 
so earnestly pressing after the knowledge of Jesus Christ, 
rejoicing that ever God did send me, where they were ; then 
I began to conclude it might be so that God had owned 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 37 

in His work such a foolish one as I, and then came that 
word of God to my heart with much sweet refreshment, 
"the blessings of them that were ready to perish is come 
upon me; yea, I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy/' 
(Job xxix. 13.) 

When he first began to preach, Bunyan endeavored to 
work upon his hearers by alarming them. He dealt chiefly 
in coniminations, and dwelt upon the dreadful doctrine 
that the curse of God "lays hold on all men as they come 
into the world, because of sin." "This part of my work,'* 
says he, "I fulfilled with great sense : for the terrors of the 
law, and guilt for my transgressions, lay heavy upon my 
conscience. I preached what I felt, — what I smartingly 
did feel, even that under which my poor soul did groan 
and tremble to astonishment. Indeed, I have been as one 
sent to them from the dead. I went myself in chains, to 
preach to them in chains; and carried that fire in my own 
conscience, that I persuaded them to be aware of. I can 
truly say that when I have been to preach, I have gone full 
of guilt and terror even to the pulpit-door; and there it 
hath been taken off, and I have been at liberty in my mind 
until I have done my work; and then immediately, even 
before I could get down the pulpit-stairs, I have been as 
bad as I was before. Yet God carried me on; but surely 
with a strong hand, for neither guilt nor hell could take 
me off my work." This is a case like that of the fiery old 
soldier John Haime, who was one of Wesley's first lay 
preachers. 

When he was in a happier state of mind, he took a 
different and better course, "still preaching what he saw 
and felt." He then labored "to hold forth our Lord and 
Saviour" in all His offices, relations, and benefits, unto the 
world; and "to remove those false supports and props on 
which the world doth lean, and by them fall and perish." 
Preaching, however, was not his only employment; and 



38 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

though still working at his business for a maintenance, he 
found time to compose a treatise against some of those 
heresies which the first Quakers poured forth so profuaely 
in their overflowing enthusiasm. In that age of theological 
warfare, no other sectaries acted so eagerly upon the offen- 
sive. It seems that they came into some of the meetings 
which Bunyan attended, to bear testimony against the 
doctrines which were taught there; and this induced him 
to write his first work, entitled "Some Gospel Truths 
opened according to the Scriptures: or, the Divine and 
Human l^ature in Christ Jesus; His coming into the 
world; His Eighteousness, Death, Resurrection, Ascension, 
Intercession, and Second Coming to Judgment plainly 
demonstrated and proved." Burton prefixed to this treatise 
a commendatory epistle, bidding the reader not to be of- 
fended because the treasure of the Gospel was held forth 
to him in a poor earthen vessel by one who had neither 
the greatness nor the wisdom of this world to commend 
him. "Having had experience," he says, "with many other 
saints, of this man's soundness in the faith, of his godly 
conversation, and his ability to preach the Gospel, not by 
human art, but by the Spirit of Christ, and that with 
much success in the conversion of sinners, — I say, having 
had experience of this, and judging this book may be profit- 
able to many others, as well as to myself, I thought it my 
duty upon this account to bear witness with my brother to 
the plain and simple, and yet glorious truths of our Lord 
Jesus Christ." 

It may be asked, How is it possible that the man who 
wrote such illiterate and senseless verses in the margin of 
his "Book of Mart3rrs," could have composed a treatise like 
this, about the same time, or shortly afterwards? To this 
it may be replied that if the treatise were seen in its 
original spelling, it might have at first sight as tinkerly 
an appearance as the verses; but in those days persons of 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 39 

mxLch higher station spelt quite as loosely, — perhaps all 
who were not professionally scholars, — for it was before 
the age of spelling-books; and it may be believed that in 
most cases the care of orthography was left to the printers. 
And it is not to be concluded from Bunyan's wretched 
verses that he would write as wretchedly in prose : in versi- 
fying he was attempting an art which he had never learnt, 
and for which he had no aptitude; but in prose he wrote 
as he conversed and as he preached^ using the plain 
straightforward language of common life. Burton may 
have corrected some vulgarisms, but other correction would 
not be needed ; for frequent perusal of the Scriptures had 
made Bunyan fully competent to state what those doctrines 
were which the Quakers impugned. He was ready with 
the Scriptural proofs; and, in a vigorous mind like his, 
right reasoning naturally results from right premises. 

Although, as he says, it pleased him much "to contend 
with great earnestness for the word of faith and the re- 
mission of sins by the death and sufferings of our Saviour," 
he had no liking for controversy, and moreover saw that 
"his work before him ran in another channel." His great 
desire was to get into what he calls "the darkest places of 
the countr}^,*^ and awaken the religious feelings of that 
class of persons, who then, as now, in the midst of a 
Christian nation, were like the beasts that perish. While 
he was thus usefully employed, "the Doctor and Priests of 
the country," he says, '^egan to open wide against him," 
and in the year 1657 an indictment was preferred against 
him at the assizes for preaching at Eaton ; for though this 
was in the golden days of Oliver Cromwell, the same 
writer who tells us that "in those days there was no perse- 
cution," observes that "the Presbyterian ministers who 
were then in possession of the livings, could not bear with 
the preaching of an illiterate tinker and an unordained 
minister." But the Presbyterians were not the only clergy 



40 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

who had intruded into the benefices of their loyal brethren, 
or retained those which were lawfully their own by con- 
forming to the times and deserting the Church in whose 
service they were ordained. There was a full proportion 
of Independents among these incumbent, and some Bap- 
tists also. And that there was much more persecution dur- 
ing the Protectorate than Cromwell would have allowed, if 
he could have prevented it, may be seen by the history of 
the Quakers, — to say nothing of the Papists, against whom 
the penal laws remained in full force, — nor of the Church 
of England. The simple truth is, all parties were agreed 
in the one Catholic opinion that certain doctrines are not 
to be tolerated. They differed as to what those doctrines 
were ; and they differed also as to the degree in which they 
held the principle of intolerance, and the extent to which 
they practiced it. The Papists, true to their creed, pro- 
claimed it without reserve or limit, and burnt all heretics 
wherever they had power to do so. The Protestants, there- 
fore, tolerated no Papists where they were strong enough 
to maintain the ascendancy which they had won. The 
Church of England would have silenced all sectaries. It 
failed in the attempt, being betrayed by many of its own 
members, and then the Sectaries overthrew the Church, 
put the Primate to death, ejected all the Clergy who ad- 
hered to their principles, imprisoned some, deported others, 
and prohibited even the private and domestic use of the 
Liturgy. The very Baptists of Bunyan's congregation, and 
at a time too when Bunyan was their pastor, interdicted a 
'^dearly beloved sister" from communicating with a church 
of which her son-in-law was minister, because he was not 
a Baptist ; and they excluded a brother "because in a great 
assembly of the Church of England he was profanely 
hishopt, after the antichristian order of that generation, to 
the great profanation of God's order, and heart-breaking 
of hifi Christian brethren.'' The Independents flogged and 



LIFE OF JOHN BUN Y AN. 41 

hanged the Quakers : and the Quakers prophesied in the 
gall of bitterness against all other communities, and con- 
demned them to the bottomless pit, in hearty belief and 
jubilant expectation that the sentence would be carried into 
full effect by the Devil and his Angels. 

It is not known in what manner the attempt at silenc- 
ing Bunyan was defeated. He tells us that the ignorant 
and malicious were then stirred up to load him with slan- 
ders; and that whatever the Devil could devise, and his 
instruments invent, Avas "whirled up and down the coun- 
try" against him, thinking that by that means they should 
make his ministry to be abandoned. It was rumored that 
he was a Witch, a Jesuit, a Highwayman : and now it was 
that tha aspersions cast upon his moral character called 
forth that characteristic vindication of himself which has 
already been noticed. Equally characteristic is the appeal 
which he made in his own manners and deportment. "And 
in this," says he, "I admire the wisdom of God, that he 
made me shy of women from my first conversion until now. 
These know, and can also bear me witness, with whom I 
have been most intimately concerned, that it is a rare thing 
to see me carry it pleasant towards a woman. The common 
salutation of women I abhor; ^tis odious to me in whomso- 
ever I see it. Their company alone I can not away with! 
I seldom so much as touch a woman's hand; for I think 
these things are not so becoming me. When I have seen 
^ood men salute those women that they have visited, or that 
nave visited them, I have at times made my objection 
against it ; and when they have answered that it was but a 
piece of civility, I have told them, it is not a comely sight. 
Some, indeed, have urged the holy kiss; but then I have 
asked why they made baulks? — why they did salute the 
most handsome, and let the ill-favored go? Thus how 
laudable soever such things have been in the eyes of others, 
they have been unseemly in my sight.'' Dr. Doddridge 



4!8 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN 

could not have tlins defended himself. But though this 
passage might have been written by a saint of the mo- 
nastic calendar^ Bunyan was no woman-hater. He had at 
this time married a second wife; and that he "carried it 
pleasant" towards her appears by her behavior towards him 
in his troubles. 

Those troubles came on a few months only after the 
Eestoration,, Bunyan being one of the first persons after 
that event who was punished for nonconformity. The 
nation was in a most unquiet state. There was a restless, 
rancorous, implacable party, who would have renewed the 
civil war, for the sake of again trying the experiment of a 
Commonwealth, which had so completely and miserably 
failed when the power was in their hands. They looked to 
Ludlow as their General; and Algernon Sydney took the 
first opportunity of soliciting for them men from Holland 
and money from France. Tlie political enthusiasts who 
were engaged in such schemes counted upon the sectaries 
for support. Even among the sober sects there were men 
who, at the cost of a rebellion, would gladly have again 
thrown do^Ti the Church Establishment, for the hope of 
setting up their own system during the anarchy that must 
ensue. Among the wilder, some were eager to proclaim 
King Jesus, and take possession of the earth, as being the 
Saints to whom it was promised: and some (a few years 
later), less in hope of effecting their republican projects 
than m despair and vengeance, conspired to burn London. 
They were discovered, tried, convicted, and executed. They 
confessed their intention; they named the day which had 
been appointed for carrying it into effect, because an as- 
trological scheme had shown it to be a lucky one for this 
design ; and on that very day the fire of London broke out. 
In such times the Government was rendered suspicious by 
the constant sense of danger, and was led as much by fear 
fts by resentment to severities which are explained by the 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAM. 48 

necessity of self-defence,— not justified by it, when they 
fall upon the innocent, or even upon the less guilty. 

A warrant was issued against Bunyan, as if he had been 
a dangerous person, because he went about preaching. This 
office was deemed (and well it might be) incompatible with 
his calling. He was known to be hostile to the restored 
Church ; and probably it might be remembered that he had 
served in the Parliament's army. Accordingly, he was ar- 
rested at a place called Samsell, in Bedfordshire, at a meet- 
ino* in a private house. He was aware of this intention, 
but neither chose to put off the meeting, nor to escape, lest 
such conduct on his part should make "an ill savor in the 
country,'' and because he was resolved "to see the utmost of 
what they could say or do to him." So he was taken before 
the Justice, Wingate by name, who had issued the warrant. 
Wingate asked him why he did not content himself with 
following his calling, instead of breaking the law; and 
Bunyan replied that he could both follow his calMng and 
preach the Word too. He was then required to find sure- 
ties. They were ready; and, being called in, were told 
they were bound to keep him from preaching, otherwise 
their bonds would be forfeited. Upon this Bunyan de- 
clared that he would not desist from speaking the word of 
God. While his mittimus was making, in consequence of 
this determination, one whom he calls an old enemy of the 
truth, entered into discourse with him, and said he had 
read of one Alexander the coppersmith who troubled the 
apostles,— "aiming 'tis like at me," says Bunyan, "be- 
cause I was a tinker ; to which I answered that I also had 
read of Priests and Pharisees that had their hands in the 
blood of our Lord." Aye, was the rejoinder, and you are 
one of those Pharisees, for you make long prayers to de- 
vour widows' houses. "I answered," says Bunyan, "that if 
he had got no more by preaching and praying than I had 
done, he would not be so rich as now he was." This ended 



41 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

in his committal to Bedford jail, there to remain till the 
quarter sessions. He was offered his liberty if he would 
promise not to call the people together, but no such promise 
would he make; and when he was told that none but poor, 
simple, ignorant people came to hear him, he replied that 
such had most need of teaching, and therefore it was his 
duty to go on in that work. It appears^ however, that after 
a few days he listened to his friends, and would have given 
bond for his appearance at the sessions ; but the magistrate 
to whom they applied was afraid to take it. "Whereat,'^ 
says Bunyan, "I was not at all daunted, but rather glad, 
and saw evidently that the Lord had heard me. For before 
I went down to the justice, I begged of God that if I might 
do more good by being at liberty than in prison, that then 
I might be set at liberty ; but if not — His will be done ; for 
I was not altogether without hope but that my imprison- 
ment might be an awakening to the saints in the country. 
Therefore, I could not tell which to choose; only I in that 
manner did commit the thing to God. And verily, at my 
return I did meet my God sweetly in the prison again, 
comforting of me, and satisfying of me that it was His 
will and mind that I should be there." 

Some seven weeks after this the Sessions were held, and 
John Bunyan was indicted as a person who ^*^devilishly 
and perniciously abstained from coming to Church to hear 
divine service, and who was a common upholder of several 
unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great disturb- 
ance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom.'* 
He answered that as to the first part of this, he was a com- 
mon frequenter of the Church of God : but being demanded 
whether he attended the parish Church, he replied that he 
did not, and for this reason, that he was not commanded 
so to do in the word of God. We were commanded there to 
pray, but with the spirit, not by the common prayer-book, 
the prayers in that book being made by other men, and not 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 45 

by the motion of the Holy Spirit within our own hearts. 
And as to the Lord's Prayer, said he, ^^there are very few 
that can, in the spirit, say the two first -v^rds of that 
prayer; that is, that can call God their father, as knowing 
what it is to be born again, and as having experience that 
they are begotten of the Spirit of God; which, if they do 
not, all is but babbling." Having persuaded himself by 
weak arguments, Bunyan used them as if they had been 
strong ones. "Show me," he said, "the place in the Epistles 
where the Common Prayer-Book is written, or one text of 
Scripture that commands me to read it, and I will use it. 
But yet, notwithstanding, they that have a mind to use it, 
they have their liberty; that is, I would not keep them 
from it. But for our parts, we can pray to God without 
it. Blessed be His name !" But the Sectaries had kept 
their countrymen from it, while they had the power; and 
Bunyan himself in his sphere labored to dissuade them 
from it. 

Men who are called in question for their opinions, may 
be expected to under or over estimate them at such times, 
according as caution or temerity may predominate in their 
dispositions. In none of Bunyan's writings does he appear 
so little reasonable, or so little tolerant, as upon these ex- 
aminations. He was a brave man, — a bold one, — and be- 
lieved himself to be an injured one, — standing up against 
persecution; for he knew that by his preaching, evident 
and certain good was done ; but that there was any evil in 
his way of doing it, or likely to arise from it, was a thought 
which, if it had arisen in his own mind, he would im- 
mediately have ascribed to the suggestion of Satan. Some 
further disputation ensued. "We were told,^' he said, "to 
exhort one another daily, while it is called to-day;" but 
the Justice replied he ought not to preach. In rejoinder, 
he offered to prove that it was lawful for him and such as 
K*m to preach, and quoted the Apostle's words, "as every 



46 LIFE OF JOHN- BUNYAN. 

man hath received that gift, even so let him minister the 
same unto another." "Let me a little open that Scripture 
to you/^ said the magistrate : ^'As every man hath received 
his gift; that is, as every man hath received a trade, so let 
him follow it. If any man have received a gift of tinker- 
ing, as thou hast done, let him follow his tinkering. And 
so other men their trades, and the divine his calling.'' But 
John iaeisted that spiritual gifts were intended in this 
passage. The magistrate said men might exhort if they 
pleased in their families, but not otherwise. John an- 
swered, "if it were lawful to do good to some, it was law- 
ful to do good to more. If it were a good thing to exhort 
our families, it was good to exhort others. And if it were 
held a sin for them to meet together and seek the face of 
God, and exhort one another to follow Christ, he would sin 
still." They were now at a point. "You confess the in- 
dictment, then?" said the magistrate. He made answer: 
"This I confess: We have had many meetings together, 
both to pray to God, and to exhort one another; and we 
had the sweet comforting presence of the Lord among us 
for our encouragement. Blessed be His name! There I 
confess myself guilty, and no otherwise." Then said the 
magistrate : "Hear your judgment. You must be had back 
again to prison, and there lie for three months following; 
and at three months' end, if you do not submit to go to 
Church to hear divine service, and leave your preaching, 
you must be banished the realm. And if after such a day 
as shall be appointed you to be gone, you shall be found 
in this realm, or be found to come over again without 
special license from the king, 3^ou must stretch by the neck 
for it. I tell you plainly." Bunyan resolutely answered 
that "if he were out of prison to-day, he would preach the 
Gospel again to-morrow, by the help of God !" 

Back, therefore, he was taken ; "and I can truly say," he 
says, "I bless the Lord for it; that my heart was sweetly 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 47 

refreshed in the time of my examination, and also after- 
wards at my returning to the prison, so that I found 
Christ^s words more than bare trifles, where He saith, ^^He 
will give you a mouth and wisdom which all your adver- 
saries shall not be able to gainsay nor resist." (Luke xxi. 
15.) Three months elapsed, and the Clerk of the Peace 
then went to him, by desire of the magistrate, to see if he 
could be persuaded to obedience. But Bunyan insisted that 
the law being intended against those who designed to do 
evil in their meetings, did not apply to him. He was told 
that he might exhort his neighbors in private discourse, if 
he did not call together an assembly of people. This he 
might do, and do much good thereby, without breaking the 
law. "But," said Bunyan, "if I may do good to one, why 
not to two? — and if to two why not to four? — and so to 
eight, and so on?" "Aye," said the Clerk, "and to a hun- 
dred, I warrant you !" "Yes," Bunyan answered, "I think 
I should not be forbidden to do as much good as I can." 
They then began to discuss the question whether under 
pretence of doing good, harm might not be done, by seduc- 
ing the people; and Bunyan allowed that there might be 
many who designed the destruction of the Government. 
Let them, he said, be punished; and let him be punished, 
also, should he do anything not becoming a man and a 
Christian. If error or heresy could be proved upon him, 
he would disown it, even in the market-place; but to the 
truth he would stand to the last drop of his blood. Bound 
in conscience he held himself to obey all righteous laws, 
whether there were a king or not; and if he offended 
against them, patiently to bear the penalty. And to cut 
off all occasion of suspicion as touching the harmlessness 
of his doctrines, he would willingly give any one the notes 
of all his sermons, for he sincerely desired to live in peace, 
and to submit to the present authority. "But there are 
two ways of obeying," he observed; "the one to do that 



48 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

•which I in my conscience do believe that I am bound to 
do, actively; and where I can not obey actively, there I 
am willing to lie down, and to suffer what they shall do 
unto me." And here the interview ended, Bunyan thank- 
ing him for his ^'civil and meek discoursing,'' and breath- 
ing a wish that they might meet in Heaven. 

Shortly afterwards the Coronation took place, and the 
iproclamation which allowed persons to sue out a pardon 
during twelve months from that day, had the effect of 
euspending the proceedings against him, if any further 
"were intended. When the assizes came, his wife pre- 
sented a petition to the Judges that they would impar- 
tially take his case into consideration. Sir Matthew Hale 
was one of these Judges, and expressed a wish to serve her 
if he could, but a fear that he could do her no good; and 
being assured by one of the Justices that Bunyan had been 
convicted, and was a hot-spirited fellow, he waived the mat- 
ter. But the High Sheriff encouraged the poor woman to 
make another effort for her husband before they left the 
town; and accordingly, "with abashed face and a tremb- 
ling heart,'' she entered the Swan Chamber, where the two 
Judges and many magistrates and gentry of the country 
■were in company together. Trembling, however, as she 
was, Elizabeth Bunyan had imbibed something of her hus- 
band's spirit. She had been to London to petition the 
House of Lords in his behalf, and had been told by one 
whom she calls Lord Barkwood, that they could do noth- 
ing, but that his releasement was committed to the Judges 
at these next assizes ; and now I am come to you, she said, 
and you give neither releasement nor relief. And she com- 
plained to Hale that he was kept unlawfully in prison, for 
the indictment was false, and he was clapped up before 
there were any proclamations against the meetings. One 
of the Judges then said he had been lawfully convicted. 
"It is false," replied the woman; "for when they said to 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 49 

him, T)o you confess the indictment?' he said only this, 
that he had been at several meetings, both when there was 
preaching the Word and prayer, and that they had God^s 
presence among them/' "Will your husband leave preach- 
ing?" said Judge Twisden. "If he will do so, then send 
for him." "My Lord," said she, "he dares not leave 
preaching, as long as he can speak." 

Sir Matthew himself was not likely to be favorably im- 
pressed by this sort of pleading. But he listened sadly 
when she told him that there were four small children by 
the former wife, one of them blind; that they had nothing 
to live upon while their father was in prison, but the 
charity of good people; and that she herself "smayed" at 
the news when her husband was apprehended, being but 
young and unaccustomed to such things, fell in labor, and 
continuing in it for eight days, was delivered of a dead 
child. "Alas, poor woman!" said Hale. But Twisden 
said poverty was her cloak, for he understood her husband 
was better maintained by running up and down a-preach- 
ing, than by following his calling. Sir Matthew asked 
what was his calling, and was told he was a tinker. "Yes," 
observed the wife, "and because he is a tinker and a poor 
man, therefore he is despised and can not have justice." 
The scene ended in Sir Matthew mildly telling her he was 
sorry he could do her no good; that what her husband 
had said was taken for a conviction; and that there was 
no other course for her than either to apply to the king, 
or sue out his pardon, or get a writ of error, which would 
be the cheapest. She urged them to send for Bunyan, that 
he might speak for himself. His appearance, however, 
would rather have confirmed those in their opinions who 
said there was not such another pestilent fellow in the 
country, than have moved the Judges in his favor. Eliza- 
beth Bunyan concludes her account by saying: "This I 
remember, that though I was somewhat timorous at my. 



50 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

first entrance into the chamber, yet before I went out I 
could not but break forth into tears; not so much because 
they were so hard-hearted against me and my husband, 
but to think what a sad account such poor creatures will 
have to give at the coming of the Lord !" 

No further steps for procuring his release were taken at 
this time, either because the means for defraying the legal 
expenses could not be raised, or, which is quite as probable, 
because it was certain that Bunyan, thinking himself in 
conscience bound to preach in defiance of the law, would 
soon have made his case worse than it then was. For he 
had fortunately a friend in the jailer, and was somewhat 
like a prisoner at large, being allowed to go whither he 
would, and return when he thought proper. He attended 
the meetings of the congregation to which he belonged; he 
was employed by them to visit disorderly members ; he was 
often out in the night; and it is said that many of the 
Baptist congregations in Bedfordshire owe their origin to 
his midnight preaching. "I followed my wonted course,^' 
he says, "taking all occasions to visit the people of God, 
exhorting them to be steadfast in the faith of Jesus Christ, 
and to take heed that they touched not the Common 
Prayer, &c." — an "&c." more full of meaning than that 
which occasioned the dishonest outcry against the "&c.^' 
oath. So far did this liberty extend that he went '^to see 
the Christians at London," — an indiscretion which cost the 
I jailer a severe reproof, nnd had nearly cost him his place; 
and which compelled him to withhold any further indul- 
gence of this kind; "so," says Bunyan, "that I must not 
now look out of the door." "They charged me," he adds, 
"that I went thither to plot and raise divisions and make 
insurrections, which, God knows, was a slander." 

It was slanderous to charge him with plotting, or with 
traitorous intentions; but in raising divisions he was, be- 
yond all doubt, actively and heartily engaged. The man 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 51 

who distinguislied a handful of Baptists in London as 
the Christians of that great metropolis, and who, when let 
out by favor from his prison, exhorted the people of God, 
as he calls them, to take heed that they touched not the 
Common Prayer, was not emplo3^ed in promoting unity, 
nor in making good subjects, however good his intentions, 
however orthodox his creed, however sincere and ferveni^ 
his piety. Peace might be on his lips, and zeal for the 
salvation of others in his heart; but he was certainly at 
that time no preacher of good will, nor of Christian charity. 
And without reference to human laws, it may be affirmed 
that the circumstances which removed this high-minded 
and hot-minded man from a course of dangerous activity, 
in which he was as little likely to acquire a tolerant spirit 
as to impart it, and placed him in confinement, where his 
understanding had leisure to ripen and to cool, was not 
less favorable for his moral and religious nature than it 
has ultimately proved to his usefulness and his fame. 

Nothing is more certain than that the gratification 
which a resolute spirit feels in satisfying its conscience 
exceeds all others. This feeling is altogether distinct from 
that peace of mind which under all afflictions abides in 
the regenerate heart; nor is it so safe a feeling, for it 
depends too much upon excitement, and the exultation 
and triumph which it produces are akin to pride. Bun- 
yan's heart had been kindled by the Book of Martyrs. 
Cold and insensible, indeed, must any heart be which could 
dwell without emotion upon those precious records of re- 
ligious heroism ! He had read in those records, with per- 
fect sympathy, the passionate epistle which the Italian 
Martyr, Pomponius Algerius, addressed from prison to his 
friends. That martyr was a student of Padua; and in 
what, in one sense, may be called the golden age of litera- 
ture, had been devoted to study from his childhood with 
ambitious diligence and the most hopeful success. 



52 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

Bunyan had thoroughly conformed his own frame of 
mind to that which he admired; but there is not a more 
characteristic passage in his works than that in which he 
describes his apprehensions, and inward conflict, and final 
determination. ^'1 will tell you a pretty business/' he says. 
^'1 was in a very sad and low condition for many weeks; 
at which time, also, being but a young prisoner and not 
acquainted with the laws, I had this lying much upon my 
spirits, that my imprisonment might end at the gallows, 
for aught that I could tell. Now, therefore, Satan laid 
hard at me, to beat me out of heart, by suggesting this 
unto me: n3ut how, if when you come indeed to die, you 
should be in this condition; that is, as not to savor the 
things of God, nor to have any evidence upon your soul 
for a better state hereafter?' (for, indeed, at that time 
all the things of God were hid from my soul.) Where- 
fore, when I at first began to think of this, it was a great 
trouble to me; for I thought with myself, that in the con- 
dition I now was, I was not fit to die; neither, indeed, 
did I think I could, if I should be called to it. Besides, 
I thought with myself, if I should make a scrambling 
shift to clamber up the ladder, yet I should, either with 
quaking, or other symptoms of fainting, give occasion to 
the enemy to reproach the way of God, and his people for 
their timorousness. This, therefore, lay with great trouble 
upon me; for methought I was ashamed to die with a pale 
face and tottering knees, in such a case as this. Wherefore 
I prayed to God tkat He would comfort me, and give me 
strength to do and suffer what He should call me to; yet 
no comfort appeared^ but all continued hid. I was also 
at this time so really possessed with the thought of death, 
that oft I was as if I was on the ladder with a rope 
about my neck. Only this was some encouragement to 
me : I thought I might now have an opportuity to speak my 
last words unto a multitude, which I thought would come 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 53 

to see me die ; and, thought I, if it must be so, if God will 
but convert one soul by my last words, I shall not count my 
life thrown away, nor lost. 

^'But yet all the things of God were kept out of my sight ; 
and still the Tempter followed me with, ^ut whither must 
you go when you die ? What will become of you ? Where 
will you be found in another world? What evidence have 
you for Heaven and glory, and an inheritance among 
them that are sanctified?' Thus was I tossed for many 
weeks, and knew not what to do. At last this consideration 
fell with weight upon me, that it was for the word and way 
of God that I was in this condition, wherefore I was en- 
gaged not to flinch an hair's breadth from it. I thought 
also that God might choose whether He would give me com- 
fort now, or at the hour of death; but I might not there- 
fore choose whether I would hold my profession or not. I 
was bound, but He was free. Yea, it was my duty to stand 
to His Word, whether He would ever look upon me or save 
me at the last ; wherefore, thought I, the point being thus, 
I am for going on, and venturing my eternal state with 
Christ, whether I have comfort here or no. If God doth 
not come in, thought I, I will leap off the ladder even blind- 
fold into eternity ; sink or swim, — come Heaven, come hell ; 
— Lord Jesus, if Thou wilt catch me, do: — if not, I will 
venture for Thy name !" 

John Bunyan did not ask himself how far the case of 
those martyrs, whose example he was prepared to follow, re- 
sembled the situation in which he was placed. Such a ques- 
tion, had he been cool enough to entertain it, might have 
shown him that they had no other alternative than idolatry 
or the stake : but that he was neither called upon to renounce 
anything that he did believe, nor to profess anything that 
he did not ; that the congregation to which he belonged held 
at that time their meetings unmolested, that he might 
have worshipped when he pleased, where he pleased^ and 



54 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

how he pleased ; that he was only required not to go about 
the country holding conventicles ; and that the cause of that 
interdiction was — not that persons were admonished in such 
conventicles to labor for salvation, but that they were ex- 
horted there to regard with abhorrence that Protestant 
Church which is essentially part of the constitution of 
' England, from the doctrines of which church, except in the 
point of infant baptism, he did not differ a hair's breadth. 
This I am bound to observe, because Bunyan has been, and 
no doubt will continue to be, most wrongfully represented 
as having been the victim of intolerant laws and prelatical 
oppression. 

But greater strength of will and strength of heart could 
not have been manifested, if a plain duty wherewith there 
may be no compromise had called for that sacrifice which 
he was ready to have made. It would be wronging him 
here were the touching expression of his feelings under 
these circumstances to be withheld. "I found myself," 
he says, "a man encompassed with infirmities. The part- 
ing with my wife and poor children, hath often been to 
me, in this place, as the pulling the flesh from the bones; 
and that not only because I am somewhat too fond of these 
great mercies, but also because I should have often brought 
to my mind the many hardships, miseries, and wants, that 
my poor family was like to meet with, should I be taken 
from them ; especially my poor blind child, who lay nearer 
my heart than all besides. Oh, the thoughts of the hard- 
ships I thought my poor blind one might go under would 
break my heart to pieces ! Poor child ! thought I, what 
sorrow art thou like to have for thy portion in this world ! 
Thou must be beaten ; must beg ; suffer hunger, cold, naked- 
ness, and a thousand calamities, though I can not now en- 
dure the wind should blow upon me! But yet, recalling 
myself, thought I, I must venture you all with God, though 
it goeth to the quick to leave you ! Oh, I saw in this con- 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 55 

dition I was as a man who was pulling down his house 
upon the heads of his wife and children: yet, thought I, I 
must do it, I must do it ! And now I thought on those two 
milch-kine that were to carry the Ark of God into another 
country, and to leave their calves behind them/' (1 Sam. 
vi. 10.) 

These fears passed away when he found that no further 
proceedings were intended against him. But his worldly 
occupation was gone, for there was an end of tinkering as 
well as of his ministerial itinerancy. "He was as effectu- 
ally called away from his pots and kettles," says Mr. 
Ivimey, in his "History of the Baptists," "as the Apostles 
were from mending their nets/' He learned, therefore, to 
make tagged thread-laces, and by this means supported 
his family. They lost the comfort of his presence; but in 
other respects their condition was not worsened by his im- 
prisonment, which indeed was likely to render them ob- 
jects of kindness as well as of compassion to their neigh- 
bors. In an age when the state of English prisons was dis- 
graceful to a Christian people, and the treatment of pris- 
oners not unfrequently most inhuman, Bunyan was fortu- 
nate in the place of his confinement and in the disposi- 
tion of his jailer, who is said to have committed the man- 
agement of the prison to his care, knowing how entirely 
he might be trusted. He had the society there of some who 
were suffering for the same cause ; he had his Bible and his 
Book of Martyrs ; and he had leisure to brood over his own 
thoughts. The fever of his enthusiasm had spent itself; 
the asperity of his opinions was softened as his mind en- 
larged ; and the "Pilgrim's Progress," was one of the fruits 
of his imprisonment. But before that work is spoken of 
more particular^, it will be convenient to pursue the story 
of his life to its close. 

He remained a prisoner twelve years. But it appears 
that during the last four of those years he regularly at- 



56 LIPE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

tended the Baptist Meeting, his name being always in the 
records; and in the eleventh year the congregation chose 
him for their pastor ; 'Tie at the same time accepted the invi- 
tation, and gave himself up to serve Christ and His Church 
in that charge, and received of the Elders the right hand of 
fellowship." ITie more recent historian of the Baptists 
says, 'Tiow he could exercise his pastoral office in preach- 
ing among them, while he continued a prisoner in jail, we 
are at a loss to conceive." Unquestionably only by being 
a prisoner at large, and having the liberty of the town 
while he was lodged in the prison. There is a print in 
which he is represented as pursued by a rabble to his own 
door; but there is no allusion to any such outrage in any 
part of his works. In his own neighborhood, where he 
had always lived, it is most unlikely to have happened; 
and if Bunyan had any enemies latterly, they were among 
the bigots of his own persuasion. His character had by 
this time obtained respect, his books had attracted notice, 
and Dr. Barlow, then Bishop of Lincoln, and other Church- 
men, are said to have pitied 'Tiis hard and unreasonable 
sufferings, so far as to stand very much his friends in pro- 
curing his enlargement." How this was effected is not 
known. 

This is the statement given in the continuation of his life, 
appended to his own account of himself, and supposed to 
have been written by Charles Doe, a Baptist minister, who 
was intimately acquainted with him. Mr. Ivimey, how- 
ever, to invalidate this, produces a passage from the preface 
to one of Owen's sermons. This passage says, that "Bun- 
yan was confined upon an excommunication for non-con- 
formity; that there was a law that if any two persons 
would go to the Bishop of the diocese, and offer a caution- 
ary bond that tbe prisoner should conform in half a year, 
the Bishop might release him upon that bond; that Barlow 
was applied to to do this, by Owen, whose tutor he had been; 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 57 

that Barlow refused, unless the Lord Chancellor would issue 
out an order to him to take the cautionary bond, and release 
the prisoner; and this, though very chargeable, was done, 
and that Bunyan was then set at liberty, "but little thanks 
to the Bishop.'^ "From this account," says Mr. Ivimey, "it 
should seem the honor given to Dr. Barlow has been ill 
bestowed." Upon this statement it will be sufficient to ob- 
serve that Bunyan was not imprisoned upon a sentence 
of excommunication ; and that he would not have been im- 
prisoned at all, if he would have allowed his friends to 
enter into a bond for him, far less objectionable on his part 
than the fraudulent one upon which it is here pretended 
he was released at last. 

From this time his life appears to have passed smoothly. 
His congregation and his other friends bought ground and 
built a Meeting-House for him, and there he continued 
to preach before large audiences. Every year he used to 
visit London, where his reputation was so great that if a 
day's notice were given, the Meeting-House in Southwark, 
at which he generally preached, would not hold half the 
people that attended. Three thousand persons have been 
gathered together there; and not less than twelve hundred 
on week days, and dark winter mornings at seven o'clock. 
He used also to preach in the surrounding counties. The 
Baptist congregation at Hitchen is supposed to have been 
founded by him. Their meetings were held at first about 
three miles from that town, in a wood near the village of 
Preston, Bunyan standing in a pit, or hollow, and the 
people round about on the sloping sides. "A chimney- 
corner at a house in the same wood is still looked upon 
with veneration, as having been the place of his refresh- 
ment." About five miles from Hitchen was a famous Puri- 
tan preaching-place called Bendish. It had been a malt- 
house, was very low, and thatched, and ran in two direc- 
tions, a large square pulpit standing in the angles ; and ad- 
joining the pulpit was a high pew, in which ministers 
sat out of sight of informers, and from which, in case of 
alarm, they could escape into an adjacent lane. The build- 
ing being much decayed, this meeting was removed in ITS'Jf 
to a place called Coleman Green ; and the pulpit, which was 
there held to be the only remaining one in which Bun- 
yan had preached, was with a commendable feeling care- 



58 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

fully removed thither. But another "true pulpit" is shown 
in London, in the Jewin Street Meeting. It is said that 
Owen greatly admired his preaching ; and that being asked 
by Charles II. "how a learned man, such as he was, could 
sit and listen to an illiterate tinker,^' he replied, "May it 
please your majesty, ceuld I possess that tinkers abilities 
for preaching, I would most gladly relinquish all my learn- 
ing." 

This opinion would be discreditable to Owen's judgment, 
if he really entertained it, and the anecdote were entitled 
to belief. For great part of Bunyan's tracts are supposed to 
contain the substance of his sermons, which it is said he 
commonly committed to writing, after he had preached 
them; and certainly if he had left no other proofs of his 
genius, these would not have perpetuated his name. But the 
best sermons are not always those which produce most effect 
in delivery. A reader may be lulled to sleep by the dead 
letter of a printed discourse, who w^ould have roused and 
thrilled if the same discourse had come to him in a stream 
of living oratory, enforced by the tones, and eye, and coun- 
tenance, and gestures of the preacher. One who is as much 
in earnest as he was, even if his matter should be worse, 
and his manner feeble, will seldom fail to move hearers, 
when they see that he is moved himself. But Bunyan may 
be supposed to have been always vehement and vigorous in 
delivery, as he frequently is in his language. One day 
when he had preached "with peculiar warmth and enlarge- 
ment," some of his friends came to shake hands with him 
after the service, and observed to him what "a sweet ser- 
mon," he had delivered. "Aye," he replied, "you need not 
remind me of that ; for the Devil told me of it before I was 
out of the pulpit." This anecdote authenticates itself. 

He became a voluminous writer, and published about 
three score tracts or books. They have been collected into 
two folio volumes, but indiscriminately arranged, and with- 
out any notice of their respective dates. This is a great 
fault; for, by a proper arrangement, or such notices, the 
progress of his mind might more satisfactorily be traced. 
Some passages occur in them which may make us shudder. 
These are very few, and in what may probably be deemed 
his earlier works, because suc'n passages are found in them. 
A very few, also, there are in which the smut of his ol4 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 59 

occupation has been left upon the paper. The strongest 
prejudice which he retained — and precisely for this rea- 
son, that it was the most unreasonable — was his dislike of 
the Liturgy, the Book of Common Prayer being, like "the 
common salutation of women," what he "could not away 
with." But the general tenor of his writings is mild, and 
tolerant, and charitable; and if Calvinism had never worn 
a blacker appearance than in Bunyan's works, it could 
never have become a term of reproach, nor have driven so 
many pious minds, in horror of it, to an opposite extreme. 
Bunyan looked for a Millennium, though he did not par- 
take the madness of the Fifth-Monarchy men, nor dream 
of living to see it. He agreed with the Particular or stricter 
Baptists that Church communion was to be held with those 
only who are "visible Saints by calling ;" that is, with those 
who make a profession of faith and repentance and holi- 
ness, and who are now called Professors in their own 
circle, but in those days took to themselves complacently 
in the appellation of Saints. He dared not hold commu- 
nion with others, he said, because the Scriptures so often 
command that all the congregation should be holy; and 
because so to do, would be plowing with an ox and an ass 
together; and because God has threatened to plague the 
"mingled people" with dreadful punishments. "It is all 
one," he says, "to communicate with the profane, and to sac- 
rifice to the Devil." But he held that difference of opinion 
concerning baptism should be no bar to communion; and 
for this he was attacked by Kiffin and Jessey, two of the 
most eminent among the Baptists. The more particular 
Particulars had long been displeased with his tolerance 
upon this point, and had drawn away some of his congrega- 
tion; and Bunyan complained of this "Church-rending" 
spirit. "Yourself," he says to Kiffin, "could you but get the 
opportunity, under pretence of this innocent ordinance, as 
you term it, of water-baptism^ would not stick to make in- 
roads, and outroads, too, in all the churches that suit not 
your fancy in the land ! For you have already been bold 
to affirm that all those that have baptized infants ought to 
be ashamed and repent, before they be showed the pattern 
of the House; and what is this but to threaten that, could 
you have your will of them, you would quickly take from 
them their present church privileges?" He complains of 



60 LIFE OF J:^HN BUNYAN. 

^T^rethren of the baptized way wlio would not pray with 
men as good as themselves, because they were not baptized 
(that is, re-baptized), but would either, like Quakers, stand 
with their hats on their heads, or else withdraw till they 
had done." 

One of his opponents had said upon this subject, that 
*^if it be preposterous and wicked for a man and woman 
to cohabit together, and to enjoy the privileges of a married 
estate" without the solemnity of public marriage, "so it is 
no less disorderly, upon a spiritual account, for any one 
to claim the privileges of a Church, or to be admitted to 
the same, till they had been under the solemnity of re- 
baptism." "These words,"' said Bunyan, "are very black. 
I wot that through ignorance and a preposterous zeal he 
said it. God give him repentance V They neither judged 
nor spoke so charitably of him. They called him a Mach- 
iavelian, a man devilish, proud, insolent, and presump- 
tuous. Some compared him to the Devil ; others to a Bed- 
lamite ; others to a sot ; and they sneered at his low origin 
and the base occupation from which he had risen. ^^Such 
insults," said he, "I freely bind unto me, as an ornament 
among the rest of my reproaches, till the Lord shall wipe 
them off at His coming." They reproached him for declin- 
ing a public conference with them in London upon the mat- 
ter in dispute. To this he answered thus : "the reason 
why I came not among you, was partly because I con- 
sulted mine own weakness, and counted not myself, being a 
dull-headed man, able to engage so many of the chief of 
you as I was then informed intended to meet me. I also 
feared, in personal disputes, heats and bitter contentions 
might arise, a thing my spirit hath not pleasure in. I 
feared, also, that both myself and words would be mis- 
represented; for if they that answer a book will alter and 
ecrew arguments out of their places, and make my sentences 
stand in their own words, not mine, — when, I say, my words 
are in a book to be seen, — ^what would you have done had 
I in the least, either in matter or manner, though but 
seemingly, miscarried among you?" 

Throughout this controversy Bunyan appears to great 
advantage as a meek, good man, beyond the general spirit 
of his age in toleration, and far beyond that of his fellow 
eectarians. He was, indeed, of such catholic spirit that 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 61 

though circumstances had made him a sectarian, he liked 
not to be called by the denomination of his sect. "I know 
none," says he, "to whom that title is so proper as to the 
disciples of John. And since you would know by what 
name I would be distinguished from others, I tell you I 
would be, and hope I am, a Christian; and choose, if God 
should count me worthy, to be called a Christian, a Believer, 
or such other name which is approved by the Holy Ghost. 
And as for those factitious titles of Anabaptists, Inde- 
pendents, Presbyterians, or the like, I conclude that they 
come neither from Jerusalem nor from Antioch, but rather 
from Hell and Babylon, for they naturally tend to divi- 
sions. You may know them by their fruits.^^ 

In another of his treatises, he says, "jars and divisions, 
wranglings and prejudices, eat out the growth, if not the 
life, of religion. These are those waters of Mar ah that em- 
bitter our spirits, and quench the spirit of God. Unity and 
Peace is said to be like the dew of Hermon (Psalm cxxxiii. 
3), and as a dew that descended upon Zion, when the Lord 
promised His blessing. Divisions run religion into briars 
and thorns, contentions and parties. Divisions are to 
churches like wars to countries; where war is, the ground 
lieth waste and untilled; none takes care of it. It is love 
that edifieth, but division pulleth down. Divisions are as 
the northeast wind to the fruits, which causeth them to 
dwindle away to nothing; but when the storms are over, 
everything begins to grow. When men are divided they sel- 
dom speak the truth in love ; and then no marvel, they grow 
not up to Him in all things which is the Head. It is a 
sad presage of an approaching famine (as one well ob- 
serves), not of bread, nor water, but of hearing the Word 
of God, when the thin ears of corn devour the plump, full 
ones; when our controversies about doubtful things, and 
things of less moment, eat up our zeal for the more indis- 
putable and practical things in religion, — ^which may give 
us cause to fear that this will be the character by which 
our age will be known to posterity, that it was the age 
which talked of religion most, and loved it least.^' It is of 
the divisions among those who could as little conform with 
one another as with the Church of England, that he is here 
speaking. And when his Mr. Bedman says that "no sin 
reigneth more in the world than pride among Professors/' 



$2 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

and asks ''^who is prouder inan your Professors? Scarcely 
the Devil himself:" Bunyan assents to this condemnation 
in the character of Mr. Wiseman, saying, "Who can con- 
tradict him? The thing is too apparent for any man to 
kdeny." In his last sermon he complains of the many pray- 
hrless Professors in London. "Coffee-houses/' he says, "will 
not let you pray ; trades will not let you pray ; looking-glasses 
will not let you pray; but if you was born of God you 
would." In another place his censure is directed against 
the prayerful ones. "The Pharisee, saith the text, stood and 
prayed with himi^elf. It is at this day," says Bunj^an, 
"wonderful common for men to pray extempore, also. To 
pray by a book, by a premeditated set form, is now out of 
fashion. He is counted nobody, now, that can not at any 
time, at a minute's warning, make a prayer of half an hour 
long. I am not against extempore prayer, for I believe it 
to be the best kind of praying; but yet I am jealous that 
there are a great many such prayers made, especially in 
pulpits and public meetings, without the breathing of the 
Holy Ghost in them; for if a Pharisee of old could do so, 
why may not a Pharisee now do the same? Great is the 
formality of religion this day, and little the power there- 
of. How proud, how covetous, how like the world in garb 
and guise, in words and actions, are most of the great 
Professors of this our day ! But when they come to divine 
worship, especially to pray, by their words and carriage 
there, one would almost judge them to be Angels in 
Heaven." Thus it appears Bunyan, like Wesley, lived to 
perceive that "often where there is most profession, there 
is least piety." 

This is manifest, also, in another passage, which is, more- 
over, worthy of notice, because it is in Bishop Latimer's 
vein. It is in his "Heavenly Footman, or description of the 
man that gets to Heaven, together with the way he runs 
in, the marks he goes by, also, seme directions how to run 
so as to obtain." No doubt it contains the substance of some 
of his sermons; and to sermons in such a strain, however 
hearers might differ in taste and in opinions, there are none 
who would not listen. "They that will have Heaven, they 
must run for it, because the Devil, the Law, Sin, Death, 
and Hell follow them. There is never a poor Soul that ia 
going to Heaven^ but tbe Devil, the Law, Sin, Death^ and 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 6a 

Hell, make after that Soul. 'The Devil, your adversary, 
as a roaring Lion, goeth about seeking whom he may de- 
vour.' And I will assure you the Devil is nimble ! he can 
run apace; he is light of foot; he hath overtaken many; 
he hath turned up their heels, and hath given them an ever- 
lasting fall. Also the Law ! that can shoot a great way : 
have a care thou keep out of the reach of those great guns 
the Ten Commandments! Hell also hath a wide mouth; 
and can stretch itself farther than you are aware of. And 
as the Angel said to Lot, 'take heed, look not behind thee, 
neither tarry thou in all the plain (that is, anywhere be- 
tween this and Heaven), lest thou be consumed/ so say I 
to thee, take heed, tarry not, lest either the Devil, Hell, 
Death, or the fearful curses of the Law of God do over- 
take thee, and throw thee down in the midst of thy sins, so 
as never to rise and recover again. If this were well con- 
sidered, then thou, as well as I, wouldst say, they that will 
have Heaven must run for it ! 

"But, if thou wouldst so run as to obtain the king- 
dom of Heaven, then, be sure that thou get into the way 
that leadeth thither; for it is a vain thing to think that 
ever thou shalt have the prize, though thou runnest never 
so fast, unless thou art in the way that leads to it. Set 
the case, that there should be a man in London that was 
to run to York for a wager. Now, though he run ever so 
swiftly, yet if he run full south, he might run himself 
quickly out of breath, and be never the nearer the prize, 
but rather the farther off. Just so it is here: it is not 
simply the runner, nor yet the hasty runner, that winneth 
the crown, unless he be in the way that leadeth thereto. 
I have observed, that little time that I have been a Pro- 
fessor, that there is a great running to and fro, some this 
way, and some that way, yet it is to be feared most of them, 
are out of the way; and then, though they run as swift' 
as the eagle can fly, they are benefited nothing at all ! Here 
is one run a Qmihing, another a Banting; one again runs 
after the Baptism, and another after the Independency. 
Here's one for Freewill, and another for Fresbytery; and 
yet possibly most of these sects run quite the wrong way ; 
and yet every one is for his life, his soul,— either for 
Heaven or Hell ! Mistrust thy own strength, and throw it 
away ! Down on thy knees in prayer to the Lord for the 



64 LIFE OF JOHN BUN VAN. 

Spirit of Truth ! Keep company with the soundest Chris- 
tians that have most experience of Christ; and be sure 
thou have a care of Quakers, Ranters, Freewillers: also, 
do not have too much company with some Anabaptists, 
though I go under that name myself/' 

Little has been recorded of Bunyan during the sixteen 
years between the enlargement and his death. It appears 
that besides his yearly visit to London, he made stated 
circuits into other parts of England; and that he exerted 
himself to relieve the temporal wants of those who were 
sufferings as non-conformists under oppressive laws ; that he 
administered diligently to the sick and afflicted, and suc- 
cessfully employed his influence in reconciling differences 
among "professors of the Gospel," and thus prevented 
"many disgraceful and burdensome litigations/' One of 
his biographers thinks it highly probable that he did not 
escape trouble in the latter part of Charles the Second's 
reign, "as the justices of Bedford were so zealous in the 
cause of persecution;" but it is much more probable that 
in a place where so much indulgence had been shown him 
during the latter years of his imprisonment, he was let 
alone; and there can be little doubt but that if he had 
undergone any further vexation for the same causes, a full 
account of it would be exposed to the same risk as other 
nonconforming preachers ; and there is a tradition among 
the Baptists at Reading that he sometimes went through 
that town dressed like a carter, and with a long whip in 
his hand to avoid detection. Reading was a place where 
he was well known. The house in which the Baptists 
met for worship was in a lane there; and from the back- 
door they had a bridge over a branch of the river Kennett, 
whereby in case of alarm they might escape. In a visit 
to that place he contracted the disease which brought hira 
to the grave. A friend of his who resided there had re- 
solved to disinherit his son; the young man requested 
Bunyan to interfere in his behalf ; he did so with good suc- 
cess, and it was his last labor of love; for, returning to 
Tjondon on horseback through heavy rain, a fever ensued, 
which, after ten days, proved fatal. 

He died at the house of his friend, Mr. Stradwick, 
a grocer, at the sign of the Star, on Snow Hill; and was 
!)\iri©d in that friend's vault in Bunhill Fields burial- 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 6b 

ground, which the Dissenters regard as their Campo Santo, 
— and especially for his sake. It is said that many have 
made it their desire to be interred as near as possible to the 
his spot where his remains are deposited. His age and the 
date of his decease are thus i-ecorded in his epitaph: — 

Mk. John Bun-yan". 

Author of Pilgrim's Progress, 

ob. 12 Aug. 1688, get. 60. 

The Pilgrim's Progress now is finished. 
And Death has laid him in his earthly bed. 

It appears that at the time of his death, the Lord Mayor, 
Sir John Shorter, was one of his London flock. But though 
he had obtained favor among the magistracy, he was not 
one of those nonconformists who were duped by the in- 
sidious liberality of the Government at that time, and lent 
their aid to measures which were intended for the de- 
struction of the Protestant faith. "It is said that he clearly 
saw through the designs of the Court in favor of Popery," 
(blind, indeed, must they have been who did not!) when 
James granted his indulgence to the Dissenters; and that 
"he advised his brethren to avail themselves of the sun- 
shine by diligent endeavors to spread the Gospel, and to 
prepare for an approaching storm of fasting and prayer." 
"He foresaw," says the Baptist Minister who added a sup- 
plement to his account of his own life," all the advantages 
that could redound to the Dissenters would have been no 
more than what Polyphemus, the monstrous giant of Sicily, 
would have allowed Ulysses, to wit, ^that he would eat 
his men first, and do him the favor of being eaten last.' " 
— "When Eegulators went into all cities and towns corpor- 
ate to new-model the magistracy, by turning out some and 
putting in others," Bunyan labored zealously with his con- 
gregation "to prevent their being imposed on in that kind. 
And when a great man in those days coming to Bedford 
upon some such errand, sent for him (as was supposed), 
to give him a place of public trust, he would by no means 
come to him, but sent his excuse." 

His earliest biographer says, also, that "though by rea- 
son of the many losses he sustained by imprisonment 
and spoil, his chargeable sickness, etc., his earthly treasure 
swelled not to excess, yet he always had sufficient to live 



66 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

decently and creditably." But all that Bunyan had to lose 
by "spoil'' was his occupation as a tinker, which, fortu- 
nately for him and the world, was put an end to earlier 
than in the course of his Preacher's progress he could 
otherwise have cast it off. That progress raised him to 
a station of respectability and comfort; and he was too 
wise and too religious a man to desire riches either for 
himself or his children. When a wealthy London citizen 
offered to take one of his sons as an apprentice without a 
premium, he declined the friendly and advantageous offer, 
saying "God did not send me to advance my family, but 
to preach the Gospel." No doubt he saw something in the 
business itself, or in the way of life to which it led, un- 
favorable to the moral character. 

His widow put forth an advertisement stating her in- 
ability to print the writings which he left unpublished. 
They are probably included in the folio edition of his works 
which was published in 1693, the year of her decease, by 
Bunyan's successor at Bedford, Ebenezer Chandler, and 
John Wilson, a brother minister of the same sect, whp went 
in Bunyan's lifetime from the Bedford congregation to be 
the first pastor of a Baptist flock at Hitchen. 

Three children survived him; there were none by the 
second marriage ; and the blind daughter, the only one 
whom it might have troubled him to leave with a scanty 
provision, happily died before him. He is said to have 
kept up "a very strict discipline in his family, in pmyer 
and exhortations." Such a discipline did not in this case 
produce its usual ill effect ; for, according to what little is 
known of his children, they went on in the way they had 
been trained. His eldest son was forty-five years a mem- 
ber of the Bedford Meeting : he preached there occasionally, 
and was employed in visiting the disorderly members; he 
was therefore in good repute for discretion, as well as for 
his religious character. The names of other descendants 
are in the books of the same meeting. In the burial ground 
belonging to it his great-grandmother Hannah Bunyan 
was interred in 1770, at the age of 76; and with her all 
that is related of his posterity ends. 

A description of his character and person was drawn by 
his first biographer. "He appeared, in countenance," says 
that friend, "to be of stern and rough temper; but in his 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 67 

conversation mild and affable; not given to loquacity or 
much discourse in company, unless some urgent occasion 
required it; observing never to boast of himself or his 
parts, but rather seem low in his own eyes, and submit 
himself to the judgment of others; abhorring lying and 
swearing; being just in all that lay in his power to his 
word ; not seeming to revenge injuries ; loving to reconcile 
differences, and make friendship with all. He had a sharp, 
quick eye, accomplished with an excellent discerning of 
persons, being of good judgment and quick wit. As for 
his person, he was tall of stature ; strong-boned, though not 
corpulent; somewhat of a ruddy face, with sparkling eyes; 
wearing his hair on his upper lip, after the old British 
fashion; his hair reddish, but in his later days time had 
sprinkled it with gray; his nose well set, but not decline 
ing or bending, and his mouth moderate large; his fore- 
head something high, and his habit always plain and mod- 
est. And thus have we impartially described the internal 
and external parts of a person who had tried the smiles 
and frowns of Time, not puffed up in prosperity, nor shaken 
in adversity, always holding the golden mean.^^ 

It remains now to speak of that work w^hich has made 
the name of Bunyan famous. 

It is not known in what year the Pilgrim's Progress was 
first published, no copy of the first edition having as yet 
been discovered. The second is in the British Museum ; it 
is ^Svith additions,'^ and its date is 1678; but as the book 
is known to have been written during Buuyan's imprison- 
ment, which terminated in 1672, it was probably published 
before his release, or at least immediately after it. The 
earliest with which Mr. Major has been able to supply me, 
either by means of his own diligent inquiries, or the kind- 
ness of his friends, is that "eighth e-di-ti-on," so humor- 
ously introduced by Gay, and printed, — not for Ni-cho- 
las Bod-ding-ton,* but for Nathaniel Ponder, at the Pea- 
cock in the Poultry, near the Church, 1682 ; for whom also 
the ninth was published in 1684, and the tenth in 1685. 
All these, no doubt, were large impressions. 

*This immortal name appears to the sixth edition of the sec- 
ond part, '•Printed for Robert Ponder, and sold by Nicholas 
Boddingtou in Duck Lane, 1693." 



68 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

This noted eighth edition is "with additions;" but there 
is no reason to suppose that they were ^'new ones, never 
made before/' for the nintli and tenth bear the same 
promise, and contain no alteration whatever. One pass- 
age of considerable length was added after the second edi- 
tion, — the whole scene between Mr. Bj^ends and his three 
friends, and their subsequent discourse with Christian and 
Faithful. It appears to have been written with reference 
to some particular case; and in Bunyan's circle the name 
of the person intended was probably well known. Per- 
haps it was first inserted in the fourth impression, "which 
had many additions more than any preceding.'' This is 
stated in an advertisement on the back of the frontis- 
piece of the eighth; where it is also said, "the publisher 
observing that many persons desired to have it illustrated 
with pictures, hath endeavoured to gratify them therein; 
and besides those that are ordinarily printed to the fifth 
impression, hath provided thirteen copper cuts curiously 
engraven for such as desire them." This notice is repeated 
in the next edition, with this alteration, that the seventh 
instead of the fourth is named as having the additions, and 
the eighth is that which had the ordinary prints. I can 
only say with certainty that no additions have been made 
subsequently to the eighth; and no other alterations than 
such verbal ones as an editor has sometimes thought proper 
to make, or as creep into all books which are reprinted with- 
out a careful collation of the text. 

The rapidity with which these editions succeeded one 
another, and the demand for pictures to illustrate them, are 
not the only proofs of the popularity which the Pilgrim's 
Progress obtained before the second part was published. 
In the verses prefixed to that part, Bunyan complains of 
dishonest imitators. 

* * * "Some have, of late, to counterfeit 

My Pilgrim, to their own, my title set; 

Yea, others, half my name, and title too, 

Have stitched to their books, to make them do." 

Only one of these has fallen in m}^ way, — for it is by 
accident only that books of this perishable kind, which 
have no merit of their own to preserve them, are to be met 
with: and this, though entitled "the Second Part of the 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN, 69 

Pilgrim's Progress/'* has no other relation to the first 
than in its title, which was probabiy a trick of the pub- 
lishers. These interlopers may very likely have given Bun- 
yan an additional inducement to prepare a second part 
himself. It appeared in 1684, with this notice on the back 
of the title-page: "I appoint Mr. Nathaniel Ponder, but 
no other, to print this book. John Bunyan. January 1, 
1684." No additions or alterations were made in this part, 
though the author lived more than four years after its 
publication. 

A collation of the first part with the earliest attainable 
copies has enabled me in many places to restore good old 
vernacular English, which had been injudiciously altered, 
or carelessly corrupted. This has also been done in the 
second part; but there I had the first edition before me; 
and this, it is evident, had not been inspected, either in 
manuscript or while passing through the press, by any 
person capable of correcting it. It is plain that Bunyan 
had willingly availed himself of such corrections in the 
first part; and therefore it would have been improper to 

* 'from this Present World of Wickedness and Misery to axj> 
Eternity of Holiness and Felicity, exactly described under tiie 
similitude of a dream, relating the manner and occasion of hie 
setting out from, and difficult and dangerous journey through 
the world, and safe arrival at last to Eternal Happiness. 

"They were Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, but they desired 
a better Country, that is an Heavenly." (Hebrews, xi. 1.3. 16.> 

"Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin that doth go 
easily beset us, and run with patience the race that is set be- 
fore us." (Hebrews, xii. 1.) 

Loudon: Printed for Thomas Malthus, at the Sun, in th^ 
Poultry, 1683. 

The author, who signs himself T. S., dedicates this book "to 
Him that is higher than the Highest; the Almighty and Ever- 
lasting Jehovah, who is the terror and confusion of the hard- 
ened and inpenitent world, and the hope and happiness of all 
converted and returning sinners." At the conclusion is ax> 
Apology for his Book, wherein he says that the hope of de- 
livering plain truth in a familiar manner, which should at th*'^ 
same time satisfy the judicious, and yet be understood by the 
meanest capacities and the most illiterate persons, was the motiv^^ 
*'which put the author of the First Part of the Pilgrim's Progress 
upon composing and publishing that necessary and useful traci, 
which hath deservedly obtained such an universal esteem and 
commendation. And this consideration likewise, together with 
the importunity of others, was the motive that prevailed witK 
me to compose and publish the following meditations in such a 
method as might serve as a supplement, or a second part to it; 
wherein I have endeavoured to supply a four fold defect, which. 
I observe, the brevity of that discourse necessitated the autho/ 



70 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

have restored a certain vulgarism* of diction in the second, 
which the editor of the folio edition had amended. Had 
it not been for this consideration, I should perhaps have 
restored his own text. For Bunyan was confident in his 
own powers of expression. He says : — 

***** "thine only way, 
Before them all, is to say out thy say 
In thine own native language, which no man 
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can." 

When Bunyan's success had raised a brood of imitators, 
he was accused of being an imitator himself. He replied 
to this charge in some of his most characteristic rhymes, 
which were added to his "Holy War," as an Advertisement 
to the Eeader. 

Some say the Pilgrim's Progress is not mine, 
Insinuating as if I would shine 
In name and fame by the worth of another. 
Like some made rich by robbing of their brother. 



into: First, there is nothing said of the State of Man in his 
first creation; nor secondly, of the misery of Man in his lapsed 
estate, before conversion: thirdly, a too brief passing over the 
methods of divine goodness in the convincing, converting, and 
reconciling of sinners to himself; and fourthly, I have en- 
deavoured to deliver the whole in such serious and spiritual 
phrases that may prevent that lightness and laughter which 
the reading some passages therein occasions in some vain and 
frothy minds. And now that it may answer my design, and be 
universally useful, I commend both it and thee to the bless- 
ing of Him whose wisdom and power, grace and goodness, it 
is that is only able to make it so. And withal I heartily wish 
that what hath been formerly proposed by some well-minded 
persons, might be more generally and universally practiced, 
viz., the giving of books of this nature at funerals, instead of 
rings, gloves, wine, or biscuit; assuring myself that reading, 
meditation, and several holy and heavenly discourses which 
may probably be raised upon the occasion of such presents 
as these, would mightily tend to the making people serious; 
and furnish not only the person who discourses, but the rest 
who are present, and who would otherwise be employing their 
thoughts and tongues too in such foolish, vain, and frothy dis- 
course, as is too commonly used at such times with such frames 
of spirits as may be suitable to the greatness and solemnity of 
that occasion which then calls them together. Among those 
few who have practiced this, abundance of good hath been ob*' 
served to have been done by that means; and who knows, were 
it more generally used and become a custom amongst us at ouf 
burials, what good might be effected thereby?" 

* The vulgarism alluded to consists in the almost uniform 
use of a for have, — never marked as a contraction; as, for 
example, "might a made me take heed," "like to a beea 
pmothered," &c. 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. ^1 

Or that so fond I am of being Sire, , 
I'll father bastards: or if need require, 
I'll tell a lye in print, to get applause. 
I scorn it; John such, dirt-heap never waa 
Since God converted him. Let this suffice 
To show why I my Pilgrim patronize. 

It came from mine own heart, so to my head. 
And thence into my fingers trickled, 
Then to my pen, from whence immediately 
On paper I did dribble it daintily. 

Manner and matter too was all mine own; 

Nor was it unto any mortal known, 

Till I had done it. Nor did any then 

By books, by wits, by tongues or hand, or pen, 

Add five words to it, or write half a line 

Thereof: the whole and every whit is mine. 

Also for This thine eye is now upon, 
The matter in this manner came from none 
But t^e same heart and head, fingers and pen. 
As did the other. Witness all good men, 
For none in all the world, without a lye. 
Can say that "this is mine," exceptmg L 

T wrote not this of any ostentation; 

NoT 'cause I seek of men their commendation: 

T do it to keep them from such surmize. 

As tempt them will my name to scandalize. 

Witness my name; if anagramm'd to thee, 

The letters make Nu hony %n a B. ^^^^ BUNYAN. 

A passage has already been quoted from his account of a 
dream, which evidently contains the germ of he "Pilgrim s 
Progress.^' The same obvions allegory had oeen rendered 
iamniar to his mind by the letter of the Italian Martyr 
Pnmnoniiis Alfferins. "In this world/' says that high- 
Sed a"d t&hant Witness for the Truth, "there is 
S^ mansion firm tS me; and therefore I will travel up to 
the New Jerusalem, which is m Heaven, and which offereth 
itself to me, without paying any fine or income. Behold 
I have entered already on my journey, where my house 
standeth for me prepared, and where I shall have riches, 
kinsfolks, delights, honors never failing. 

But original as Bunyan believed his own work to be, 
and as in the main undoubtedly it is, the same allegory 
had often been treated before him,-so often, indeed, that 
to notice all preceding works of this kmd would far ex- 
ceed aU reasonable limits here. Some of these may have 



Yg LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

fallen m Bunyan's way, and modified his own conception 
when he was not aware of any such influence. Mont- 
gomery, in his very able introductory Essay to the "Pil- 
grim's^ Progress," observes, that "a Poem entitled "The 
Pilgrimage/ " in "Whitney's Emblems," and the emblem 
which accompanies it, may have suggested to him the idea 
of his story. Indeed, he says "if he had Whitney's picture 
before him he could not more accurately have copied it in 
words," than in the passage where Evangelist directs Chris- 
tian to the Wicket-Gate. 

Another book in which a general resemblance to the 
"Pilgrim's Progress" has been observed, is the "Voyage of 
the Wandering Knight," of which a translation from the 
French of the Carmelite Jean de Carthenay, was printed 
in the reign of Elizabeth, the Carmelite himself having 
imitated a French poem (once very popular), composed 
A. D. 1310, by Guill. de Guilleville, a monk of Chanliz, 
and entitled the "Pelerin de la Vie Humaine." There is 
a vague general resemblance in the subject of this work, 
and some occasional resemblance in the details; but the 
coincidences are such as the subject would naturally lead 
to, and the "Pilgrim's Progress" might have been exactly 
what it is, whether Bunyan had ever seen this book or not. 
But he had certainly seen Bernard's "Isle of Man, or the 
Legal Proceedings in Manshire against Sin; wherein, by 
way of a continued allegory, the Chief Malefactors disturb- 
ing both Church and Commonwealth are detected and at- 
tached; with their arraignment and judicial trial, accord- 
ing to the Laws of England." This was a popular book 
m Bunyan's time, printed in a cheap form for popular 
sale, and "to be sold by most booksellers." There is as 
much wit in it as in the "Pilgrim's Progress," and it is 
that vein of wit which Bunyan has worked with such good 
success. It wants the charm of story, and has nothing of 
that romantic interest which "holds children from sleep;'* 
and therefore its popularity has passed away. But it is 
written with great spirit and ability, and for its own merit, 
as well as for the traits of the times with which it abounds, 
well deserves to be reprinted.* 

* In that -vein Bernard has also been followed by Bishop 
Womack,— unless, indeed, that excellent Divine intended, in his 
"Porpria quae maribusj' to satirize the absurd names given 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 73 

^0 one who reads this little book can doubt that it had 
a considerable effect upon the style of Bunyan's invention. 
The Bee had been shown by this elder one where honey of 
a peculiar flavor might be extracted, but the new honey 
was of our Bee's own gathering. 

Lately, however, a charge has been brought against John 
the Bee, of direct and knavish plagiarism. The following 
paragraph appeared in a London journal, and was gener- 
ally copied into the provincial newspapers : — 

"The friends of John Bunyan will be much surprised 
to hear that he is not the author of the Tilgrim's Prog- 
ress,' but the mere translator ^ It is, however, an act of 
plagiarism to publish it in such a way as to mislead his 
readers; but it is never too late to call things by their 
right names. The truth is, that the work was even pub- 
lished in French, Spanish, and Dutch, besides other lan- 
guages, before John Bunyan saw it; and we have ourselves 
seen a copy in the Dutch language, with numerous plates, 
printed long previous to Bunyan's time." 

"It is very difficult," says Montgomery, "to imagine for 
what purpose such a falsehood (if it be one) should be 
framed; or how such a fact (if it be a fact) could have 
been so long concealed; or, when declared thus publicly, 
why it should never have been established by the production 
of this Dutch copy, with its numerous plates. Be this as 
it may, till the story is authenticated it must be regarded 
as utterly unworthy of credit." 

I also, upon reading this notable paragraph in a news- 
paper, felt as Montgomery had done, and as "it is never 
too soon to call things by their right names," bestowed upon 
it at once its proper qualification. It would, indeed, be as 
impossible for me to believe that Bunyan did not write the 
"Tilgrim's Progress," as that Porson did write a certain 



by the Puritans to their children: this, however, he might in- 
tend, and yet have imitated Bernard. The names of the Triers, 
in his "Examination of Tilenus," are Dr. Absohite, Mr. Fa- 
tality, Mr. Preterition, Mr. Efficax, Mr. Indefectible, Dr. Con- 
fidence, Mr. Meanwell, Mr. Stimulant, Mr, Take-o'-Trust, Mr. 
Impertinent, Mr. Narrowgrace, in whom Philip Nye was per- 
sonated; Mr. Knowlittle, who stood for Hugh Peters; Dr. Du- 
bious, whom nobody doubts to be the representation of Bax- 
ter; and Dr. Damiman, a name which was that of one of the 
Secretaries at the Dort Synod, and which to an English ear 
perfectly designated his rigid principles. 



74 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

copy of verses entitled the ^^Devil's Thoughts." There 
must have been a grievous want of common sense in the 
person who wrote the paragraph, to suppose that such a 
plagiarism could have escaped detection till he discovered 
it, — Bunyan^s book having been translated into those lan- 
guages (and current in them), in one of which, according 
to him, the original, and in the others, earlier versions of 
that original than the English "Pilgrim's Progress," were 
existing! But tliere must have been a more grievous want 
of fidelity in his assertions. If he had been able to read 
the book which he saw, this gross accusation could never 
iiave been brought against John Bunyan. The book in 
question I have had an opportunity of perusing, through 
the kindness of its possessor, Mr. Offor. A person look- 
ing (like Bunyan's accuser) at the prints, and not under- 
standing the language in which the book is written, might 
have supposed that hints had been taken from them for the 
adventures at the Slough of Despond, and at Vanity Fair ; 
but that the "Pilgrim's Progress" was not a translation 
from the work he must have known, for the Pilgrims in 
the prints are women; and it required no knowledge of 
Dutch to perceive that the book is written not as a narra- 
tive, but in a series of Dialogues. 

Bolswert, the engraver, is the author of this book, which 
is entitled "The Pilgrimage of Dovekin and Willekin to 
their Beloved in Jerusalem." The author was a true lover 
of his mother tongue, and more than once laments over 
the fashion of corrupting it with words borrowed from 
other languages. All the examples which he adduces of 
such adulterations are French. The book, though totally, 
neglected now, was once very popular ; my venerable friend 
Bilderdijk tells me that "it was one of the delights of his 
childhood." I am obliged to Mr. Major for a French 
translation of it, in which some intermediate possessor has 
drawn his pen through the name of Kousseau, that name 
appearing, upon comparing it with a fac-simile in Rees's 
Cyclopedia, and with an autograph also, to be in the hand- 
writing of Jean Jacques. The French translator, as might 
be expected, has carefully got rid of everything which re- 
lates to Flemish manners and feelings, and the raciness of 
the original is completely lost in his version. 

The two sisters.. Dovekin and Willekin, are invited in a 



LIFE OF JOHN BUN VAN. 75 

dream by the Beloved, in the language of the Canticles, 
to arise and come away. Willekin, who is for a little more 
sleep a little more slumber, is not inclmed to accept the 
invitation, and disparages her lover, saymg that he is no 
better than Joseph the Carpenter and Peter the Fisherman, 
with whom he used to keep company. Dovekm, however, 
persuades her to rise, and set off npon their pilgrimage 
to him. It is but a day's journey. They wash, at their 
outset, in a river of clear water which has its source m 
Kome, and (taking the Netherlands" in its way) flows to 
Jerusalem; and by this river they are to keep or they will 
lose themselves. They gather flowers also at the beginning 
of their iourney for the purpose of presenting them to the 
Bridegroom and his mother, whose favor Dovekm says it 
is of the utmost importance to obtain, and who, she as- 
sures her sister, dearly loves the Netherlanders. The wil- 
ful sister collects her flowers without any choice or care, 
loses them, over-eats herself, and is obliged to go to the 
river to wash herself after eating. She then finds her 
flowers again, and they proceed till they come to a village, 
where it happens to be fair time, and Willekm will not be 
dissuaded bv her prudent sister from stopping to look at 
some mountebanks. The print annexed is what was supposed 
to represent Vanity Fair, whereof the story relates merely to 
a Flemish Kermes, and the only adventure which belalls 
the idle sister there, is, that she brings away from it cer- 
tain living and loathsome parasites of humanity, who pass 
under a generic appellation in the French version, but m 
the honest Dutch original are called by their own name. 

Going out of her way to admire a peacock, Willekm steps 
in the dirt. Presently she must go see some calves at play, 
a cow bemires her with a whisk of her tail, and she must 
repair to the river to cleanse herself again. Thank (k)cI 
for this river, says Dovekin. Poor thoughtless, incorrigible 
Willekin, thus goes on from one mishap to another, and 
taking a by-path falls into a ditch, which the detector ot 
Bunyan's plagiarism immediately supposed to be his 
Slough of Despond. She goes on committing lollies at 
every occasion, and some crimes; and the end (for it must 
be needless to pursue the story) is that when they come 
within sight of Jerusalem, she climbs a steep and dangerous 
place, notwithstanding her sister's entreaties, m order to 



76 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

obtain a better prospect. The wind blows her down; she 
falls iuto a deep pit, full of noxious creatures, where no 
help can be given her, and there she is left with broken 
bones, to her fate. Dovekin proceeds, reaches the suburbs 
of Jerusalem, undergoes a purification in a tub, then makes 
a triumphant entrance into the city of Jerusalem in a lofty 
chariot, and is there with all honor and solemnity espoused 
to the Bridegroom. And this is tlie book from which 
Bunyan was said to have stolen the "Pilgrim's Progress'' ! 
If ever there was a work which carried with it the stamp 
of originality in all its parts, it is that of John Bunyan ! 

Disraeli, from whose works the best-informed reader 
may learn much, and who, in the temper of his writings, as 
well as in the research which they display, may be a useful 
model for succeeding authors, calls Bunyan "the Spenser 
of the people. He is, indeed, the Prince of allegorists in 
prose. The allegory is never lost sight of in the first part : 
in the second it is not so uniformly preserved ; parties who 
begin their pilgrimage in childhood, grow up upon the way, 
pass through the stage of courtship, marry and are given in 
marriage, have children and dispose of their children. Yet 
to most readers this second part is as delightful as the first; 
and Bunyan had perhaps more pleasure in composing it, 
not only because he was chewing the cud of his old inven- 
tions, but because there can be no doubt that he compli- 
mented the friends whom he delighted to honor, by giving 
them a place among the persons of his tale. We may be 
sure that Mr. Valiant-for-the-Truth, Old Honest of the 
Town of Stupidity, Mr. Despondency and his daughter 
Muchafraid, and their companions, were well known in 
"Bishop Bunyan's" diocese ; and if no real characters were 
designed by him in those who are less favorably introduced 
as turning back on their journey, striking into by-paths, or 
slumbering by the way, likenesses would be discovered 
where none were intended. 

None but those who have acquired th© ill habit of always 
reading critically, can wish the Second Part had not been 
written, or feel it as a clog upon the first. There is a pleas- 
ure in traveling with another company over the same 
ground, a pleasure of reminiscence neither inferior in kind 
nor in degree to that which is derived from a first impres- 
sion. The author evidently felt this, and we are indebted 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 77 

to it for some beautiful passages of repose, such as that in 
the Valley of Humiliation. The manner in which Chris- 
tian's battle is referred to, and the traces of it pointed out, 
reminds one of what is perhaps the best imagined scene in 
Palmerin of England, where Palmerin enters a chapel, and 
is shown the tombs of some of the knights of King Lisu- 
arte's court. 

Bunyan concludes with something like a promise of a 
third part. There appeared one after his death, by some 
unknown hand, and it has had the fortune to be included 
in many editions of the original work. It is impossible 
to state through how many editions that work has passed; 
probably no other book in the English language has ob- 
tained so constant and so wide a sale. The prints which 
have been engraved to illustrate it would form a collection, 
not so extensive, indeed, but almost as curious, as that 
which Duppa saw a^fe Vallambrosa, where a monk had got 
together about eight thousand different engravings of the 
Virgin Mar}^ The worst specimens, both in wood and 
copper, would be found among them; as now some of the 
best are to be added. When the reader has seen Giant 
Slaygood with Mr. Feeblemind in his hand, he will, I 
think, agree with me that if a nation of Anakim existed 
at this day, the artist by whom that print was designed 
and executed, would deserve to be appointed historical 
painter to his highness the Prince of the Giants. 

The "Pilgrim's Progress" has more than once been 
"done into verse," but I have seen only one version, and 
that of only the First Part. It was printed by R. Tookey, 
and to be sold by the booksellers of London and Westmin- 
ster ; but if there be a date to this version, it has been torn 
off with the corner of the title-page from this well-thumbed 
and well-worn copy, for the use of which (as of other rare 
books that have been most useful on the present occasion) 
I am obliged to Mr. Alexander Chalmers. The versifica- 
tion is in the lowest Witherish strain, one degree only 
above Bunyan's own; yet here and there with indications 
of more power than the writer has thought proper to put 
forth. In general, the version keeps close to the original. 
In one place a stroke of satire is put into Apollyon's mouth, 
against the occasional conformists : — 



78 LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 

"Come and go with me occasionally back, 
Rather than a preferment lose or lack." 

And after the Pilgrims have crossed the river, this singu- 
lar illustration occurs: — 

'Then on all sides the heavenly host enclose, 
As through the upper regions all arose; 
With mighty shouts and louder harmonies, 
Heaven's Opera seem'd as glorious to rtie eyes 
As if they had drawn up the curtain of the skies." 

Though the story certainly is not improved by versifying 
it, it is less injured than might have been supposed in the 
process; and perhaps most readers would read it with as 
much interest in the one dress as in the other. 

A stranger experiment was tried upon the "Pilgrim's 
Progress,^' in translating it into other words, altering the 
names, and publishing it under the title of "The Progress 
of the Pilgrim," without any intimation that this version 
is not an original work. Evangelist is here called Good- 
news; Worldly Wiseman, Mr. Politic Worldly; Legality, 
Mr. Lawdo ; the Interpreter, Director ; the Palace Beauti- 
ful, Graces Hall ; Vanity town is Mundus ; the Giant, is 
Giant Desperation of Diffident Castle, and the prisoners 
released from it, instead of Mr. Despondency and his 
daughter, Muchafraid, are "one Muchcastdown, and his 
kinsman Almost Overcome." This would appear to have 
been merely the device of some knavish bookseller for 
evading the laws which protect literary property; but the 
person employed in disguising the stolen goods must have 
been a Eoman Catholic, for he has omitted all mention of 
Giant Pope, and Fidelius suffers martyrdom by being 
hanged, drawn, and quartered. The dialogues are much 
curtailed, and the book, as might be expected, very much 
worsened throughout; except that better verses are in- 
serted. 

Bunyan could little have supposed that his book would 
ever be adapted for sale among the Romanists. Whether 
this was done in the earliest French translation I do not 
know; but in the second there is no Giant Pope; and lest 
the circumstances of the author should operate unfavorably 
for the reception of his work, he is designated as un Min- 
istre Anglais, nomme Jean Bunian, Pasteur d'une Eglise 
dam la Ville de Bedfort en Angleterre. This contains only 



LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. 79 

the first part, but promises the second should it be well re- 
ceived. The first part, under the title of le Pelerinage d'un 
nomme Chretien, forms one of the volumes of the Petite 
Bibliotheque du Catholique, and bears in the title-page 
a glorified head of the Virgin. A Portuguese translation 
(of the first part, also), and in like manner cut down to 
the opinions of the public for which it was designed, was 
published in 1782. Indeed, I believe there is no European 
language into which the "Pilgrim's Progress" has not been 
translated. "The Holy War" has been little less popular; 
and if "The Life and Death of Mr. Badman" has not been 
as generally read, it is because the subject is less agreeable, 
not that it has been treated with inferior ability. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY 

FOB 

HIS BOOK. 



When at the first I took my pen in hand, 
Thus for to write, I did not understand 
That I at all should make a little book 
In such a mode : nay, I had undertook 
To make another ; which, when almost done. 
Before I was aware, I this begun. 

And thus it was : I, writing of the way 
And race of saints in this our gospel-day. 
Fell suddenly into an allegory 
About their journe}', and the way to glory. 
In more than twenty things, which I set down. 
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ; 
And they again began to multiply. 
Like sparfe that from the coals of fire do fly. 
ISTay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast 
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last 
Should prove ad infiniUim* and eat out 
The book that I already am about. 

Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think 
To show to all the world my pen and ink 
In such a mode : I only thought to make 
I knew not what: nor did I undertake 
Thereby to please my neighbor ; no, not I, 
I did it my own self to gratify. 

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
In this my scribble ; nor did I intend 
But to divert mj^self in doing this, 
From worser thoughts, which make me do amisSp 



* Witlior.t end- 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 81 

Thus I set pen to paper with delight, 
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. 
For having now my method by the end, 
Still as I pulFd, it came ; and so I penn'd 
It down; until at last it came to be, 
For leng-th and breadth, the bigness which you see. 

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together, 
I show'd them others, that I might see whether 
They would condemn them, or them justify. 
And some said, Let them live; some, Let them die, 
Some said, John, print it; others said, N'ot so: 
Some said, It might do good ; others said, No. 

Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
Which was the best thing to be done by me. 
At last I thought. Since ye are thus divided, 
I print it will ; and so the case decided. 

For, thought I, some I see would have it done. 
Though others in that channel do not run : 
To piove then, who advised for the best, 
I further thought, if now I did deny 
Those that would have it, thus to gratify; 
I did not know, but hinder them I might ^ 
Of that which would to them be great delight. 
For those which were not for its coming forth, 
I said to them, Offend you, I am loath; 
Yet since your brethren pleased with it be. 
Forbear to judge, till you do further see. 

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone ; 
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone; 
Yea, that I might them better moderate 
I did too with them thus expostulate 

May I not write in such a style as this ? 
In such a method, too, and yet not miss 
]V[y end— thy good? Why may it not be done? 
Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. 
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops 
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops. 



82 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY, 

Gives praise to both, and oarpeth not at either, 
But treasures up the fruit they yield together; 
Yea, so commixes both, that in their fruit 
None can distinguish this from that ; they suit 
Her well when hungry; but, if she be full, 
She spews out both, and makes their blessing nulL 

You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
To catch the fish; what engines doth he make; 
Behold how he engageth all his wits; 
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets: 
Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line, 
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine, can make shine: 
They must be grop'd for, and be tickled too, 
Or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do. 

How does the fowler seek to catch his game? 
By divers means, all which one can not name; 
His guns, his nets, his lime- twigs, light, and bell 
He creeps, he goes, he stands ; yea, who can tell 
Of all his postures? Yet there's none of these 
Will make him master of what fowls he please. 
Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this; 
Yet, if he does so, that bird he will miss. 

If that a pearl may in toad's head dwell. 
And may be found, too, in an oyster-shell. 
If things that promise nothing, do contain 
What better is than gold ; who will disdain. 
That have an inkling* of it, there to look. 
That they may find it? Now, my little book 
(Though void of all these paintings that may make 
It with this or the other man to take). 
Is not without those things that do excel 
What do in brave but empty notions dwell. 



99 



''Well, yet I am not fully satisfied 
That this your book will stand, when soundly tried. 

Why, what's the matter? ''It is dark." What thought 
''But it is feigned." What of that? I trow 



* Hint, whisper, insinuation. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY, 83 

Some men by feigned words^ as dark as mine. 
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine ! 
^*But they want solidness/' Speak, man, thy mind, 
''They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind/' 

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
Of him who writeth things divine to men ; 
But must I needs want solidness, because 
By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws. 
His gospel laws, in olden time held forth 
By shadows, types, and metaphors ? Yet loath 
Will any sober man be to find fault 
With them, lest he be found for to assault 
The highest wisdom ! No, he rather stoops. 
And seeks to find out what, by pins and loops. 
By claves and sheep, by heifers and by rams. 
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
God speaketh to him; and happy is he 
That finds the light and grace that in them be. 

Be not too forward, therefore, to conclude 
That I want solidness — that I am rude; 
All things solid in show, not solid be; 
All things in parable, despise not we. 
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive. 
And things that good are, of our souls bereaye 
My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold 
The truth, as cabinets inclose the gold. 

The prophets used much by metaphors 
To set forth truth : yea, who so considers 
Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see 
That truths to this day in such mantles be- 

Am I afraid to say, that holy writ. 
Which for its style and phrase puts down all ¥rit^ 
Is everywhere so full of all these things. 
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs 
From that same book, that lustre, and those rays 
Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days. 



84 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

Come, let my carper to his life now look, 
And find there darker lines than in my book. 
He findeth any, yea, and let him know, 
That in his best things there are worse lines, too. 

May we but stand before impartial men, 
To his poor one I dare adventure ten. 
That they will take my meaning in these lines 
Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
Come, Trnth, althongh in sAvaddling-clothes, I find 
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind; 
Pleases the understanding, makes the will 
Submit, the memory, too, it doth fill 
With what doth our imagination please; 
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. 

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use 
And old wives' fables he is to refuse; 
But yet grave Paul him nowhere doth forbid 
The use of parables, in which lay hid 
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that weie 
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 

Let me add one word more. Oh, man of God, 
Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had 
Put forth my matter in another dress? 
Or that I had in things been more express? 
To those that are my betters, as is fit. 
Three things let me propound, then I submit. 

1. I find not that I am denied the use 
Of this my method, so I no abuse. 
Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude 
In handling figure or similitude. 
In application; but all that I may 
Seek the advance of truth this or that way. 
Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave, 
(Examples, too, and that from them that have 
God better pleased, by their words or ways. 
Than any man that breatheth now-a-days,) 
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare 
Things unto thee that excellentest are. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY, 85 

2. I find that men as high as trees will write 
Dialogue-wise ; yet no man doth them slight 
For writing so. Indeed, if they abuse 
Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use 
To that intent ; but yet let truth be free 

To make her sallies upon thee and me, 
Which way it pleases God : for who knows how. 
Better than he that taught us first to plough. 
To guide our minds and pens for his design? 
And he makes base things usher in divine. 

3. I find that holy writ, in many places, 

Hath semblance with this method, where the cases 
Do call for one thing to set forth another : 
Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother 
Truth's golden beams : nay, by this method may 
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. 

And now, before I do put up my pen, 
I'll show the profit of my book ; and then 
Commit both thee and it unto that hand 
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 

This book, it chalketh out before thine eyes 
The man that seeks the everlasting prize : 
It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes ; 
What he leaves undone ; also, what he does : 
It also shows you how he runs, and runs, 
Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 
It shows, too, who set out for life amain, 
As if the lasting crown they would obtain; 
Here, also, you may see the reason why 
They lose their labor, and like fools do die. 

This book will make a traveler of thee. 
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be ; 
It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 
If thou wilt its directions understand. 
Yea, it will make the slothful active be; 
The blind also delightful things to see. 



B6 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

Art thou for something rare and profitable; 
Or would'st thou see a truth within a fable? 
Art thou forgetful? Wouldest thou remember 
From New- Year's day to the last of December? 
Then read my fancies; they will stick like burrs. 
And may be to the helpless comforters. 

This book is writ in such a dialect 
As may the minds of listless men affect. 
It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. 

Would'st thou divert thyself from melancholy? 
Would' st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly? 
Would'st thou read riddles, and their explanation? 
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation? 
I)ost thou love picking meat? Or would'st thou set 
A man i' the clouds^ and hear him speak to thee? 
Would'st thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? 
Or would'st thou in a moment laugh and weep? 
Would'st thou lose thyself and catch no harm. 
And find thyself again, without a charm? 
Would'st read thyself, and read thou knoVst not when 
And yet know whether thou art blest or not, 
By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither. 
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 

JOHN BUNYAN. 



THE 

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



THE FIKST STAGE. 

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, 
I lighted on a certain place where was a den,* and laid 
me down in that place to sleep; and as I slept, I 
dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man 
clothed with rags standing in a certain place, with his 
face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great 
burden upon his back. (Isa. 64: : Q] Luke 14 : 33; Psalm 
38: 4.) I looked and saw him open the book, and 
read therein; and as he read he wept and trembled; 
and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with 
a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I do?" (Acts 
2: 37; 16: 30; Habak. 1: 2, 3.) 

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and re- 
strained himself as long as he could, that his wife and 
children should not perceive his distress: but he could 
not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. 
Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and 
children, and thus he began to talk to them . " Oj my 
dear wife," said he, " and you the children of my bow* 

BedfiomS Jailt in wktsik the aotJior waa a pnsocer for cofisdeotoe sili* 



$0 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

els, I, your dear friend, am in mjself undone by reason 
of a burden that lieth hard upon me ; moreover, I am cer- 
tainly informed that this our city will be burnt with fire 
from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, 
with thee my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miser^ 
ably come to ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some 
way c^ escape can be found whereby we may be deliv* 
ered." At this his relations were sore amazed ; not for 
that they believed that what he had said to them was 
true, but because they thought that some frenzy dis- 
temper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing to. 
wards night, and they hoping that sleep might settle 
his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But the 
night was as troublesome to him as the day ; where- 
fore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. 
So when the morning was come, they would know bow 
he did. He told them, " Worse and worse ; " he also 
set to talking to them again ; but they began to \»e 
hardened. They also thought to drive away his distem- 
per by harsh and surly carriage to him; sometimes they 
would deride, sometimes they would chide, and some- 
times they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he 
began to retire himself to his chamber to pray for and 
pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he 
would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes read- 
ing, and sometimes praying ; and thus for some days 
he spent his time. 

Now I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in 
the fields, that he was (as he was wont) reading in his 
book, and greatly distressed in his mind ; and as hfe 
read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, " What 
shall I do to be saved? " (Acts 16 : 30, 31.) 

I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as 
if he would run ; yet he stood still because (as I per- 
ceived) he could not tell which ^aj to g?. ^ iook<5oi 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 89 

then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, 
and he asked, " Wherefore dost thou cry ? " 

He answered, " Sir, I perceive, by the book in my 
hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to 
come to judgment (Heb. 9 : 27) ; and I find that I am 
not willing to do the first (Job 10 : 21, 22), nor able to 
do the second." (Ezek. 22: 14.) 

Then said Evangelist, "Why not willing to die, 
since this life is attended with so many evils ? " The 
man answered, " Because I fear that this burden that 
is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave, and 
I shall fall into Tophet, (Isa. 30 : 33.) And sir, if I 
be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go to judg- 
ment, and from thence to execution ; and the thoughts 
of these things make me cry." 

Then said Evangelist, "If this be thy condition, 
why standest thou still ? " He answered, " Because I 
know not whither to go." Then he gave him a parch- 
ment roll, and there was written within, " Fly from the 
wrath to come." (Matt. 3 : 7.) 

The man therefore read it, and, looking upon Evan- 
gelist very carefully, said, " Whither must I fly ? '* 
Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a 
very wide field), " Do you see yonder wicket gate? " 
(Matt. 7 : 13, 14.) The man said, " No." Then said 
the other, " Do you see yonder shining light? " (Psalm 
119 : 105 ; 2 Pet. 1 : 19.) He said, " I think I do." 
Then said Evangelist, " Keep that light in your eye, 
and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate ; 
at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee 
what thou shalt do. ' So I saw in my dream that the 
man began to run. Now he had not run far from his 
own door when his wife and children, perceiving it, be* 
gan to cry after him to return ; but the man put his 
, fingers in his ears and ran on, crying, " Life ! life I eter- 



O^ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

nal life ! '* (Luke 14 : 26.) So he looked not behind hinj 
(Gen. 19 : 17), but fled towards the middle of the plain. 

The neighbors also came out to see him run (Jer. 
20 : 10) ; and as he ran, some mocked, others threatened, 
and some cried after him to return ; and among those 
that did so, there were two tnat resolved to fetch him 
back by force. The name of the one was Obstinate, 
and the name of the other Pliable. Now by this time 
the man was got a good distance from them , but, how^ 
ever, they were resolved to pursue him, which they did, 
and in a little time they overtook him. Then said the 
man, "Neighbors, wherefore are ye come?" They 
said, " To persuade you to go back with us." But he 
said, " That can by no means be : you dwell," said he, 
* in the city of Destruction, the place also where I was 
born : 1 see it to be so ; and dying there sooner, or later 
you will sink lower than the grave, into a place that 
burns with fire and brimstone ; be content, good neigh- 
bors, and go along with me.'* 

Obst. What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends 
and our comforts behind us ! 

Chr. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), 
because that all which you forsake is not worthy to be 
compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy 
(2 Cor. 4 : 18) ; and if you will go along with me, and 
hold it, you shall fare as I myself ; for there, where I 
go, is enough and to spare. (Luke 15 : 17.) Come 
away, and prove my words. 

Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave 
all the world to find them ? 

Chr. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, 
and that fadeth not away (1 Peter 1:4); and it is laid 
up in heaven, and safe there (Heb. 11 : 16), to be be- 
stowed, at the time appointed, on them that diligently 
seek it. Read it so, if yoi\ will, in * V^k. 



THE PILGRIAr^S PROGRESS. m 

Obst. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book • 
will you go back with us or no ? 

Chr. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid 
my hand to the plough. (Luke 9 : 62.) 

Obst. Come then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn 
again, and go home without him : there is a company 
of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that when they take a 
fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven 
men that can render a reason. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Don't revile ; if what good 
Christian says is true, the things he looks after are 
better than ours ; sl't aeart inclines to go with my 
neighbor. 

Obst. What, more fools still ! Be ruled by me, and 
go back ; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow 
will lead you ? Go back, go back, and be wise. 

Chr. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbor 
Pliable; there are such things to be had which I spoke 
of, and many more glories besides. If you believe not 
me, read iierd in this book ; and for the truth of what 
is expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the 
blood of Him that made it. (Heb. 9 : 17-21.) 

Pli. Well, neighbor Obstinate, said Pliable, I be- 
gin to come to a point ; I intend to go along with this 
good man, and to cast in my lot with him ; but, my 
good companion, do you know the way to this desired 
place ? 

Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evan* 
gelist, to speed me to a little gate that is before us, 
where we shall receive instructions about the way. 

Pli. Come then, good neighbor, let us be going. 
Then they went both together. 

Obst. And I will go back to my place, said Obsti- 
nate : I will be no companion of such misled, fantast> 
cal fellows. 



g2 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Now I saw in mj dream, that when Obstinate was 
gone back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the 
plain ; and thus they began their discourse. 

Chr. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do ? 1 
am glad you are persuaded to go along with me. Had 
even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt of the 
powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not 
thus lightly have given us the back. 

Pli. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are 
none but us two here, tell me now further, what the 
things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are 
going. 

Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind, 
than speak of them with my tongue: but yet, since 
you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my 
book. 

Pli. And do you think that the words of your book 
are certainly true? 

Chr. Yes, verily ; lor it was made by him that can* 
not lie. (Tit. 1 : 2.) 

Pli. Well said ; what things are they ? 

Chb. There is an endless kingdom to be inhabited, 
end everlasting life to be given us, that we may in- 
habit that kingdom forever. (Isa. ^b\ 17; John 10: 
27-29.) 

Pli. Well said ; and what else ? 

Chr. There are crowns of glory to be given us ; 
and garments that will make us shine like the sun in 
the firmament of heaven. (2 Tim. 4:8; Rev. 22 : 5 ; 
Matt. 13 : 43.) 

Pli. This is very pleasant ; and what else ? 

Chr. There shall be no more crying, nor sorrow; 
for he that is owner of the place will wipe all tears 
from our eyes. (Isa. 25 : 8 ; Rev. 7 : 16, 17 ; 21 : 4.) 

Pli. And what company shall we have there t 



TffE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 93 

Che. There we shall be with seraphims and cheru- 
Oims (Isaiah 6 : 2 ; 1 Thess. 4 : 16, 17 ; Rev. 5 : 11) : 
creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look on them. 
There also you shall meet with thousands and ten thou- 
sands that have gone before us to that place ; none of 
them are hurtful, but loving and holy ; every one walk- 
ing in the sight of God, and standing in his presence with 
acceptance forever. In a word, there we shall see the 
elders with their golden crowns (Rev. 4:4); there we 
shall see the holy virgins with their golden harps (Rev. 
14 : 1-5) ; there we shall see men, that by the world 
were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, 
drowned in the seas, for the love they bare to the Lord 
of the place (John 12 : 25) ; all well, and clothed with 
immortality as with a garment. (2 Cor. 5 : 2.) 

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's 
heart. But are these things to be enjoyed ? How shall 
we get to be sharers thereof? 

Che. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath 
recorded that in this book (Isaiah 55 : 1, 2 ; John 6 : 
37 ; 7 : 37 ; Rev. 21 ; 6 ; 22 : 17) ; the substance of 
which is, If we be truly willing to have it, he will be- 
stow it upon us freely. 

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear 
%t these things : come on, let us iiiend onr pace. 

Chk. I cannot go as fast as I would, by reason of 
this burden that is on my back. 

Kow I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended 
this talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough that 
was in the midst of the plain : and they being heedless, 
did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the 
slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed 
for a time, being grievously bedaubed w'th dirt; and 
Christian, because of the burden that was on h!'? baek, 
began to sink in the miro. 



1^ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbor Christiai^ 
where are you now ? 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 

Pli. At this Pliable began to be offended, and an- 
grily said to his fellow. Is this the happiness you have 
told me all this while of? If we have such ill speed at 
our first setting out, what may we expect between thip 
and our journey's end ? May I get out again with my 
life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me. 
And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, and 
got out of the mire on that side of the slough which 
was next to his own house: so away he went, and 
Christian saw him no more. 

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough 
of Despond alone ; but still he endeavored to struggle 
to that side of the slough that was farthest from his 
own house, and next to the wicket gate ; the which he 
did, but could not get out because of the burden that 
was upon his back : but I beheld in my dream, that a 
man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked 
him what he did there. 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way 
by a man called Evangelist, who directed me also to 
yonder gate, that I might escape the wrath to come* 
And as I was going thither, I fell in here. 

Help. But why did not you look for the steps ? 

Chr. Fear followed me so hard that I fled the next 
way, and fell in. 

Help. Then said he. Give me thine hand : so he gave 
him his hand, and he drew him out (Psalm 40 ; 2), and 
he set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his 
way. 

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and 
said, " Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way 
from the city of Destruction to yonder gate, is it, thaf 



THE FILGRiM J" PROGj<iiSS, 9g 

this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go 
thither with more security ? " And he said unto r»e, 
*' This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended : 
it is the descent whither the scum and filth that at* 
tends conviction for sin doth continually run, and 
therefore it is called the Slough of Despond ; foi still, 
as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, 
there arise in his soul many fears and doubts, and dis- 
couraging apprehensions, which all of them get to- 
gether, and settle in this place : and this is the reason 
of the badness of this ground. 

" It is not the pleasure of the Xing chat this place 
should remain so bad. (Isa. 35 : 3, 4.) His laborers 
also have, by the direction of his Majesty's surveyors, 
been for above these sixteen h^mdred years employed 
about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have 
been mended • yea, and to my knowledge," said he, 
" there have been swallowed up at least twenty thou- 
sand cartloads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions, 
that have afe all seasons been brought from all places of 
the King's dominions (and they that can tell, say, they 
are the best materials to make good ground of the 
place), if so be it might have been mended ; but it is 
the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when they 
have done what they can. 

" True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, 
certain good and substantial steps, placed even through 
the very midst of this slough ; but at such time as this 
place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against 
change of weather, these steps are hardly seen ; or if 
they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step 
beside, and then they are bemired to purpose, notwith- 
standing the steps be there : but the ground is good 
when they are once got in at the gate." (1 Saift 



96 



THE PILGRLWS PROGRESS, 



Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable 
was got home to his house. So his neighbors came to 
yisit him; and some oi them called him wise man for 
coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding 
himself with Christian: others again did mock at his 
cowardliness, saying, " Surely, since you began to ven- 
ture, I would not have been so base as to have given 
out for a few difficulties." So Pliable sat sneaking 
among them. But at last he got more coufidence, and 
then they all turned their tales, and began ko deride 
poor Christian behind his back. And this much con- 
cerninar Pliable. 

Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself 
he espied one afar off come crossing over the field to 
meet him; and their hap was to meet just as they were 
crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's name 
that met him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman: he dwelt in 
the town of Carnal Policy, a very "reat town, and also 
hard by from whence Christian came. This man then, 
meeting with Christian, and having some inkling* of 
iiim (for Christian's setting forth from the city of De* 
struction Avas much noised abroad, not only in the town 
where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town-talk 
in some other places) — Mr. Worldly Wiseman, there- 
fore, having some guess of him, by beholding his labori- 
ous going, by observing his sighs and groans, and the 
like, began thus to enter into some talk with Christian. 

World. How now, good fellow, whither away after 
this burdened manner? 

Chr. a burdened manner indeed, as evtrr I think 
poor creature had ! And whereas you ask me, fV^hither 
away? I tell you sir, I am going to yonder wictet-gate 
before nie; for there, as I am informed, I shall be put 
into a way to be rid of my heavy burdf»rv 

* Slight knowledp«. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. ^ 

WoKi^D. Hast thou a wife and children ? 

Chk. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden, that 
I cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly : m©« 
thinks I am as if I had none. (1 Cor. 7 : 29.) 

World. Wilt thou hearken to me, if 1 give the« 
counsel ? 

Chr. If it be good, I will ; for I stand in need o| 
good counsel. 

World. I would advise thee, then, that thou with 
all speed get thyself rid of thy burden ; for thou wilt 
jaever be settled in thy mind till then : n- r canst thou 
enjoy the benefits of the blessings which God hath be- 
stowed upon thee till then. 

Chr. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid of 
'this heavy burden ; but get it off myself I cannot, nor ik< 
there any man in our country that can take it off my 
shoulders ; therefore I am going this way, as I told you^ 
that I may be rid of my burden. ■ 

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy 
burden ? 

Chr. a man that appeared to me to be a very grealu 
and honorable person : his name, as I remember, is 
Evangelist. 

World. I beshrew * him for his counsel ! There is 
not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the world 
than is that into which he hath directed thee ; and that 
thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. 
Thou hast met with something, as I perceive, already,' 
for I see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon 
thee : but that slough is the beginning of the sorrows 
that do attend those that go on in that way. Hear me: 
I am older than thou : thou art like to meet with, ia 
the way which thou goest, wearisoraeness, painfulaess, 
hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, dark 

* Wish a £UT8e tOk 



^ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

ness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These things 
are certainly true, having been confirmed by many testj^ 
monies. And should a man so carelessly cast aw9^ 
himself, by giving heed to a stranger ? 

Chr. Why, sir, this burden on my back is more tei 
^ible to me than all these things which you have meii» 
tioned ; nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in 
the way, if sc- be I can also meet with deliverance from 
my burden. 

World. How earnest thou by thy burden at first? 

Chr. B} reading this book in my hand. 

World. I thought so ; and it has happened unto 
thee as to other weak men, who, middling with things 
too high for them, do suddenly fall lulo thy distractions \ 
which distractions do not onl^ anraan men, as thine I 
perceive have done thee, but tney run them upon des- 
perate ventures, to obtain they know not what. 

Chr. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease from 
my heavy burden. 

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, 
seeing so many dangers attend it? especially since 
^hadst thou but patience to hear me) I could direct 
thee to the obtaining oi what thou desirest, without the 
dangers that thou i^ ^uxo way wilt run thyself into. 
Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, 
that instead of those dangers, thou shalt meet with 
nuoh safety, friendship, and content. 

Chr. Sir, I pray open this secret to me. 

World. Why, in yonder village (the ''^ulage is named 
Morality) there dwells a gentleman vvhc»ae name is Le- 
gality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very good 
iia;ne. that has skill to help men off with such burdens 
as thine is from their shoulders, yea, to my knowledge, 
he hath done a great deal of good this way ; aye, and 
besides, he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 99 

crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, as I 
said, thou mayest go, and be helped presently. His 
house is not quite a mile from this place ; and if he 
should not be at home himself, he hath a pretty young 
man to his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it 
(to speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself • 
there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden ; anc}„ 
if thou art not minded to go back to thy former habi- 
tation (as indeed I would not wish thee), thou mayest 
send for thy wife and children to this village, where 
there are houses now standing empty, one of which 
thou mayest have at a reasonable rate : provision is 
there also cheap and good; and that which will make 
thy life the more hapijy is, to be sure there thou shalt 
live by honest neighbors, in credit and good fashion. 

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but pres- 
ently he concluded, If this be true which this gentle- 
man hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice : 
and with that he thus further spake. 

Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's 
house ? 

World. Do you see yonder high hill? 

Chr. Yes, very well. 

World. By that hill you must go, and the first 
house you come at is his. 

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mpc 
Legality's house for help: but. behold^ when he was got 
now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that 
side of it that was next the wayside did hang so much 
over, that Christian was afraid to venture farther, lest 
the hill should fall on his head ; wherefore there he 
stood still, and wotted not what to do. Also his bu '• 
den now seemed heavier to him than while he was in 
his way. There came also flashes of fire (Ex. 19 : 16, 
18), out of the hill, that made Christian afraid that he 



lOO THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Bhoald be burnt : here therefore he did sweat and quake 
for fear. (Heb. 12 : 21). And now he began to be 
sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly Wiseman's coun- 
sel ; and with that he saw Evangelist coming to meet 
him, at the sight also of whom he began to blush with 
shame. So Evangelist drew nearer and nearer ; and 
coming up to him, he looked upon him, with a severe 
and dreadful countenance, and thus began to reason 
with Christian. 

Evan. What doest thou here. Christian ? said he : 
at which words Christian knew not what to answer ; 
wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. 
Then said Evangelist further. Art not thou the man 
that I found crying without the walls of the city ci 
Destruction ? 

Chr. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 

Evan. Did not 1 direct thee the way to the little 
wicket-gate ? 

Chr. Yes, dear sir, .wd Christian. 

Evan. How is it, then, thou art so quickly turneu 
^ide ? For thou art now out of thy way. 

Chr. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got 
over the Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that 
I might, in the village before me, tind a man that could 
take off my burden. 

Evan. What was he ? 

Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much 
to me, and got me at last to yield : so I came hither : 
but when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the 
way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my 
head. 

Evan. What said that gentleman to you ? 

Chr. Why, be asked me whither I was going ,* and 
I told him. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. xVi 

Chr. He asked me if I had a family ; and I told 
him. But, said I, I am so laden with the burden that 
is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as 
formerly. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden; 
and I told him it was ease that I sought. And, said I, 
i am therefore going to yonder gate, to receive further 
direction how 1 may get to the place of deliverance. 
So he said that he would show me a better way, and 
short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, 
that you set me in ; which way, said he, will direct you 
to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these 
burdens : so I believed him, and turned out of that way 
into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my burdea. 
But when I came to this place, and beheld things as 
they are, I stopped, for fear (as I said) of danger : bi>t 
I now know not what to do. 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a litth, 
that I show thee the words of God. So he stood trem- 
bling. Then said Evangelist, " See that ye T-efuse not 
Him that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who refused 
him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, 
if we turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven. ' 
(Heb. 12 : 25.) He said, moreover, " Now the just shall 
live by faith ; but if any man draw back, my soul shall 
have no pleasure in him." (Heb. 10 : 38.) He also did 
thus apply them ; Thou art the man that art running 
into this misery : thou hast begun to reject the counsel 
of the Most High, and to draw back thy foot from the 
way of peace, even almost to the hazarding of thy per* 
dition. 

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, 
Woe is me, for I am undone ! At the sight of which 
Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, " AH 



I02 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

manner of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto 
men." (Matt. 12 : 31.) *' Be not faithless, but believ- 
ing." (John 20 : 27.) Then did Christian again a 
little revive, and stood up trembling, as at first, before 
Evangelist. 

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more ear- 
nest heed to the things that I shall tell thee. I will 
BOW show thee who it was that deluded thee, and 
who it was also to whom he sent thee. The man 
that met thee is one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly is 
he so called ; partly because he savoreth only the doc- 
trine of this world (1 John, 4:5), (therefore he always 
goes to the town of Morality to church) ; and because 
he is of this carnal temper, therefore he seeketh to per- 
vert my ways, though right. Now there are three 
things in this man*s counsel that thou must utterly 
abhor. 

1. His turning thee out of the way. 

2. His laboring to render the cross odious to thee^ 

3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth 
unto the administration of death. 

First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the 
way , yea, and thine own consenting thereto : because 
this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of the 
counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, " Strive 
to enter in at the strait gate " (Luke 13 : 24), the gate 
to which I send thee ; " for strait is the gate that lead<» 
eth unto life, and few there be that find it." (Matt. 7= 
13, 14.) From this little wicket-gate, and from the way 
thereto, hath this wicked man turned thee, to the bring- 
ing of thee almost to destruction : hate, therefore, his 
turning thee out of the way, and abhor thyself for 
hearkening to him. 

Secondly, Thou must abhor his laboring to render 
the cross odious unto thee# lor thou art to prefer it 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 103 

before the treasures of Egypt. (Heb. 11: 25, 26.) 
Besides, the King of glory hath told thee, that he that 
will save his life shall lose it. And he that comes after 
him, and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, 
and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his 
own life also, he can not be hi? disciple. (Mark 8 : 38; 
John 12 : 25 ; Matt. 10 : 39 ; Luke 14 : 26.) I say, 
therefore, for man to labor to persuade thee that that 
shall be thy death, without which, the truth hath said, 
thou canst not have eternal life, this doctrine thou 
must abhor. 

Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in 
the way that leadeth to the ministration of death 
And for this thou must consider to whom he sent theC) 
and also how unable that person was to deliver thee 
from thy burden. 

He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name 
Legality, is the son of the bondwoman which now is, 
and is in bondage with her children (Gal. 4 : 21-27), 
and is, in a mystery, this Mount Sinai, which thou hast 
feared will fall on thy head. Now if she with her 
children are in bondage, how canst thou expect by 
them to be made free? This Legality, therefore, is not 
able to set thee free from thy burden. No man was as 
yet ever rid of his burden by him ; no, nor ever is like 
to be : ye can not be justified by the works of the law; 
for by the deeds of the law no man living can be rid oi 
his burden. Therefore Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an 
alien, and Mr. Legality is a cheat; and for his son 
Civility, notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but 
a hypocrite, and can not help thee. Believe me, there 
is nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard of these 
sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy sal- 
vation, by turning thee from the way in which I set 
thee. After this, Evangelist called aloud to tb« 



104 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



heavens for confirmation of what he had said ; and with 
that there came words and fire out of the mountain 
under which poor Christian stood, which made the hair 
of his flesh stand up. The words were pronounced ; 
" As many as are of the works of the law, are under 
the curse ; for it is written, Cursed is every one that 
continueth not in all things which are written in the 
book of the law to do them." (Gal. 3: 10). 

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and 
began to cry out lamentably , even cursing the time in 
which he met wif li Mr. Worldly Wiseman ; still calling 
himself a thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel. 
He also was greatly ashamed to think that this gentle^ 
man's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should 
have the prevalency with him so far as to cause him 
to forsake the right way. This done, he applied him- 
self again to Evangelist in words and sense as follows. 

Chr. Sir, what think you ? Is there any hope ? May 
I now go back, and go up to the wicket-gate? Shall I 
not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence 
ashamed? I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's 
counsel ; but may my sin be forgiven ? 

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very 
great, for by it thou hast committed two evils : thou 
hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in for- 
bidden paths. Yet will the man at the gate receive 
thee, for he has good-will for men ; only, said he, take 
iieed that thou turn not aside again, lest thou "perish 
from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a Uttle/* 
(Psalm 2: 12). 



TBE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 105 



THE SECOND STAGE. 

Then did Christian address himself to go back ; and 
Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one 
smile, and bid him God speed ; so he went on with 
haste, neither spake he to any man by the way : nor if 
any man asked him, would he vouchsafe them an 
answer. He went like one that was all the while 
treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means 
think himself safe, till again he was got into the way 
which he had left to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's 
counsel. So, in process of time, Christian got up to 
the gate. Now, over the gate there was written, 
"Knock, and it shall be opened unto you." (Matt. 7 : 7.) 
He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, 
^saying, 

" May I now enter here ? Will he within 
Open to sorry me, though I have been 
An undeserving rebel ? Then shall I 
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high." 

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named 
Goodwill, who asked who was there, and whence he 
came, and what he would have. 

Chr. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from 
the city of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, 
that I may be delivered from the wrath to come. I 
would therefore, sir, since I am informed that by this 
gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let 
me in. 

Good I am willing with all my heart, said he ; and 
with that he opened the gate. 

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave 



to6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

faim a pull. Then said Christian, What means that? 
The other told him, A Httle distance from this gate 
there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is 
*he captain ; from whence both he and they that are 
with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this 
gate, if haply they may die before thev can enter in. 
Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when 
he was got in, the man at the gate asked him who 
directed him thither. 

Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as 
I did : and he said, that you, sir, would tell me what I 
must do. 

Good. An open door is set before thee, and no man 
can shut it. 

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefit of my 
hazards. 

Good. But how is it that you came alone ? 

Chr. Because none of my neighbors saw their 
(danger as I saw mine. 

Good. Did any of them know of your coming ? 

Chr. Yes, my wife and children saw me -t the 
first, and called after me to turn again : also some of 
my neighbors stood crying and calling after me to re- 
turn ; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came c** 
my way. 

Good. But did none of them follow you, to pep 
iuade you to go back ? 

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable ; but when 
they saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate went 
railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way. 

Good. But why did he not come through ? 

Chr. We indeed came both together until we came 
to the Slough of Despond, into the which we also 
suddenly fell. And then was my neighbor Pliable dis- 
couraged, and would not venture farther. Wherefore^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PR<^GRESS, 1O7 

getting out again on the side next to his own house, 
he told me 1 should possess the brave country alone 
for him ; so he went his way, and I came mine ; he 
after Obstinate, and I to this gate. 

Good. Then said Goodwill, Alas, poor man ; is the 
celestial glory of so little esteem with Lim, that he 
oounteth it not worth running the hazard of a few diffi- 
culties to obtain it? 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of 
Pliable; and if I should also say all the truth of my- 
self, it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him 
and myself. It is true, he went back to his own house, 
but I also turned aside to go into the way of death, be- 
ing persuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one 
Mr. Worldly Wiseman. 

Good. Oh, did he light upon you ? What, he would 
have had you seek for ease at the hands of Mr. Legality 
They are both of them a very cheat. But did you take 
his counsel? 

Chr. Yes, as far as I durst. T went to find out Mr 
Legality, until I thought that the mountain that stands 
by his house would have fallen upon my head ; where- 
fore there was I forced to stop. 

Good. That mountain has been the death of many, 
and will be the death of many more: it is well 30U. es» 
caped being by it dashed in pieces. 

Chr. Why truly I do not know what had become 
of me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again 
as I was musing in the midst of my dumps ; but it was 
God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had 
never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as 
I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than 
thus to stand talking with my Lord. But oh, what a 
favor is this to me, that yet I am admitted entrance 
berel 



Io8 THE PILGRIM^S PROGPESS. 

Good, We make no objections against any, notwitlii 
standing all that they have done before they coma 
hither ; they in nowise are cast out. (John 6 : 37.) 
And therefore, good Christian, come a little way with 
me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. 
jLook before thee; dost thou see this narrow way? 
That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the 
patriarchs, prophets, Christ, and his apostles, and it ia 
as straight as a rule can make it ; this is the way thou 
must go. 

Chr. But, said Christian, are there no turnings noi 
windings, by which a stranger may lose his way? 

Good. Yes, there are many ways butt down upon 
this, and they are crooked and wide : but thus thou 
mayest distinguish the right from the wrong, the right 
only being straight and narrowo (Matt. 7 : 14.) 

Then I saw in ro^y dream, that Christian asked him 
further, if he could not help him off with his burden 
that was upon his back. For as yet he had not got rid 
thereof; nor could he by any means get it off wicKout 
help. 

He told him, " As to thy burden, be content to bear 
it until thou comes t to the place of deliverance ; for 
there it will fall from thy back of itself." 

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to 
address himself to his journey. So the other told him, 
jthat by that he was gone some distance from the gate, 
he would come to the house of the Interpreter, at whose 
door he should knock, and he would show him excel- 
lent things. Then Christian took his leave of his 
friend, and he again bid him God speed. 

Then he went on till he came at the house of the 
Interpreter,* where he knocked over and over. At 
last one came to the door, and asked who was there. 

• The Holv Spirit, 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. lO^ 

Omi. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid bj an ac- 
JlTiaintance of the good man of this house to call here 
for my profit ; I would therefore speak with the master 
of the house. 

So he called for the master of the house, who, after 
% little time, came to Christian, and asked him what he 
would have. 

Chk. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that um. come 
from the city of Destruction, and am going to the Mount 
Zion ; and I was told by the man that stands at the 
gate at the bead of this way, that if I called iiere you 
would show me excellent things, such as would be 
helpful to me on my journey. 

Inter. Then said Interpreter, Come in ; I will show 
thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he com- 
nanded his r/.an to light the candle, and bid Christian 
follow him. So he had him into a private room, and 
bid his man open a door; the which when he had done, 
Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang 
ap against the wall ; and this was the fashion of it ; it 
iiad eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in it? 
hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the 
world was behind its back ; it stood as if it pleaded 
with men, and a crown of gold did hang over its head. 

Che. Then said Christian, What means this? 

Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a 
thousand : he can beget children (1 Cor. 4 : 15), travail 
in birth with children (Gal. 4: 19), and nurse them 
himself when they are born. And whereas thou seest 
him with his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of books 
in his hand, and the law of truth writ on his lips : it is 
to show thee, that his work is to know, and unfold dark 
things to sinners ; even as also thou seest him stand ps 
if he pleaded with men. And whereas thou seest i^Iio 
world as cast behind him, and that a crown hangs over 



11^ TUB PTLGRTHtS r/^OGRESS, 

his head ; that is tc show thee, that slighting and det 
Bpising the things that are present, for the love that he 
hath to his Master's service, he is sure in the world that 
comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, said 
the Interpreter, I have showed thee this picture first, 
<)ecause the man whose picture this is, is the only man 
*vhom the I^ord of the place whither thou art going hath 
authorized to be thy guide in all difficult places thou 
mayest meet with in the way : wherefore take good 
heed to what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy 
mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey thou 
meet with some that pretend to lead the? right, but 
their way goes down to death. 

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a 
very large parlor that was full of dust, because never 
swept; the which after he reviewed it a little while, the 
Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he 
began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly 
about, that Christian had almost therewith been 
<^vhoked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that 
fttood by, *' Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room ; '* 
the which when she had done, it was swept and 
cleansed with pleasure. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this ? 

Inter. The Interpreter answered, This parlor is 
the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the 
sweet grace of the Gospel. The dust is his original 
sin, and inward corruptions, that have defiled the whole 
man. He that began to sweep at first, is the law ; but 
she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gos- 
pel. Now whereas thou sawest, that so soon as the 
first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the 
room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast 
almost choked therewith ; this is to show thee, that the 
Iftw, instead of cleausiusc the heart (by its working) frora 



THE PILGRIM'S PR OGRESS IIS 

tin, doth revive (Rom. 7 : 9), put strength into (1 CoTi 
15: 56), and increase it in the soul (Rom. 5: 20), eve* 
AS it doth discover and forbid it ; for it doth not giva 
power to subdue. Again, as thou sawest the damse\ 
sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was 
cleansed with pleasure, this is to show thee, that when 
the Gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences 
thereof to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest 
the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with 
water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the sou? 
made clean through the faith of it, and consequently 
fit for the King of glory to inhabit. (John 15: ^: Eph. 
6: 26; Acts 15: 9; Rom. 16: 25, 26.) 

I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter 
took him by the hand, and led him into a little room, 
where sat two little children, each one in his chair. 
The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of 
the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much dis 
contented, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian 
asked, "What is the reason of the discontent of Passion*^" 
The Interpreter answered, ** The governor of them 
would have him stay for his best things till the be 
ginning of the next year, but he will have all now ; but 
Patience is willing to wait.'' 

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought 
him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet : 
the which he took up, and rejoiced therein, and withal 
laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, 
and he had lavished all away, and bad nothing left him 
but rags. 

Che Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Ex 
pouna ohis matter more fully to me. 

Inter. So he said, Th3se two lads ace figures. 
Passion of the men of this world, and Patience of ta< 
^fitti of that which is to come ; for, as hero thcu sees' 



112 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Passion will have all now, this year, that is to say, in 
this world ; so are the men of this world : they must 
have all their good thin^^s now ; they can not stay till 
the next year, that is, until the next world, for their 
portion of good. That proverb, *' A bird in the hand 
is worth two in the bush," is of more authority with 
them than are all the divine testimonies of the good 
of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had 
quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him 
nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men at the 
end of this world. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience 
has the best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 
1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also 
iiecause he will have the glory of his, when the other 
Vas nothing but rags. 

Inter. Nay, you ma}' add another, to wit, the glory 
iif the next world will never wear out ; but these are 
suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much 
J eason to laugh at Patience because he had his good 
things first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion 
because he had his best things last, for first must give 
jilace to last, because last must have his time to come : 
but last gives place to nothing, for there is not another 
to succeed. He, therefore, that hath his portion first, 
must needs have a time to spend it ; but he that hath 
his portion last, must have it lastingly; therefore it is 
said of Dives, '' In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy 
good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but 
now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." (Luke 
16: 25.) 

Chr. Then I perceive it is not best to covet thing, 
tLat are now, but to wait for things to come. 

Inter. You say tvulli : for the things that are seen 
are temporal, but the things that a-xe not seen are 



THE PTLCRIM'S PROGRESS. 113 

eternal. (2 C^r. 4 : 18.) But though this be so, yet 
since things present and our fleshy appetite are such 
near neighbors one to another ; and again, because 
things to come and carnal sense are such strangers one 
to another ; therefore it is, that the first of these so 
suddenly fall into amity, and that distance is so con* 
tinned between the second. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took 
Christian by the hand, and led him into a place where 
was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by 
it, always casting much water upon it to quench it; 
yet did the fire burn higher and hotter. 

Then said Christian, What means this? 

The Interpreter answered. This fire is the work of 
grace that is wrought in the heart ; he that casts watt«r 
upon it, to extinguish and put it out, is the devil : bt?t 
in that thou seest the fire, notwithstanding, burn high^tf 
and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of thatc So 
he had him about to the back side of the wall, where lo 
saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the whicA 
be did also continually cast (but secretly) into the fir«. 

Then said Christian, What means this? 

The Interpreter answered. This is Christ, who coy- 
tinually, with the oil of his grace, maintains the work 
already begun in the heart ; by the means of which, 
notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of his 
people prove gracious still. (2 Cor. 12 : 9.) And ia 
that thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to 
maintain the fire^ this is to teach thee, that it is hard 
for the tempted to see how this work of grace is main- 
tained in the soul. 

I saw also, that the Interpreter iook him again by 
the hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where 
was built a stately palace, beautiful to behold ; at the 
^ht of which Christian was greatly delighted. Ha 



1X4 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



saw also upon the top thereof certain persons walking, 
who were clothed all in gold. 

Then said Christian may we go in thither ? 

Then the Interpreter took him, and led him up to 
wards the door of the palace ; and behold, at the door 
stood a great company of men, as desirous to go in, 
but durst not. There also sat a man at a little dis- 
tance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and 
his inkhorn before him, to take the names of them 
that should enter therein ; he saw also that in the 
doorway stood many men in armor to keep it, being 
resolved to do to the men that would enter, what hurt 
and mischief they could. Now was Christian some- 
what in amaze. At last when every man started 
back for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man 
of a very stout countenance come up to the man that 
sat there to write, saying, " Set down my name, sir ; '* 
the which when he had done, he saw the man draw his 
sword, and put a helmet on his head, and rush towards 
the door upon the armed men, who laid upon him with 
deadly force ; but the man, not at all discouraged, fell 
to cutting and hacking most fiercely. So after he had 
received and given many wounds to those that at- 
tempted to keep him out (Matt. 11 : 12 ; Acts 14 : 22), 
he cut his way through them all, and pressed forward 
into the palace ; at which there was a pleasant voice 
heard from those that were within, even of those that 
■walked upon the top of the palace, saying, 

" Come in, come in, 

Eternal glory thou shalt win." 

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as 
they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think verily 
I know the meaning of this. 

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, 
said the Interpreter, till I have showed thee a littla 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 115 

more, and after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he 
took him by the hand again, and led him into a very 
dark room, where there sat a man in an iron cage. 

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad ; he sat 
with his eyes looking down to the giound, his hands 
folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his 
heart. Then said Christian, What means this? All 
which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man. 

Then said Christian to the man, What art thou? 
The man answered, I am what I was not once. 

Chr. What wast thou once ? 

Man. The man said, I was once a fair and flourish- 
ing professor (Luke 8 : 13), both in mine own eyes, and 
also in the eyes of others ; I once was, as I thought, 
fair for the celestial city, and had then even joy at the^ 
thoughts that I should get thither. 

Chr. Well, but what art thou now ? 

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up 
in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out ; oh, now I 
cannot ! 

Chr. But how earnest thou into this condition ? 

Man. I left off to watch and be sober : I laid the 
reins upon the neck of my lusts ; I sinned against the 
light of the world, and the goodness of God ; I have 
grieved the Spirit, and he is gone ; I tempted the devil, 
and he is come to me ; I have provoked God to anger, 
and he has left me : I have so hardened my heart, that 
I cannot repent. 

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But is there 
no hope for such a man as this ? Ask him, said the In- 
terpreter. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you 
must be kept in the iron cage of despair ? 

Man. No, none at all. 

Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitifuL 



Ii6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Man. I have crucified him to myself afresh (Heb. 
6: 6); I have despised his person (Luke 19: 14); I 
have despised his righteousness ; I have counted his 
blood an unholy thing ; I have done despite to the spirit 
of grace (Heb. 10 : 29): therefore I have shut niyself 
out of all the promises, and there now remains to me 
nothing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, faithful 
tiireateniugs of certain judgment and fiery indignation, 
which shall devour me as an adversary. 

Chk. For what did you bring yourself into this con- 
dition ? 

Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this 
Tvorld ; in the enjoyment of which I did then promise 
l^ayself much delight : but now every one of those 
things also bite me, and gnaw me like a burning worm. 

Chr. But canst thou not now repent and turn ? 

Man. God hath denied me repentance. His word 
g' ves me no encouragement to believe ; yea, himself 
bith shut me up in this iron cage ; nor can all the men 
ii? the world let me out. Oh, eternity ! eternity ! how 
s)*all I grapple with the misery that I must meet with 
\Vi eternity ? 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let 
tJis man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an 
everlasting caution to thee. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God help 
me to watch and to be sober, and to pray that I may 
shun the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is it not time 
for me to go on my way now ? 

Inter. Tarry till I show thee one thing more, and 
then thou shalt go on thy way. 

So he took Christian by the hand again and led him 
into a chamber wnere there was one rising out of bed; 
and as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. 
Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble ? 



TfTE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS^ ff^ 

The Interpreter then bid hiip tell to ^Christian the ret>» 
Bon of his so doing. 

So he began, and said, " This night, as I was in my 
&'eep, I dreamed, and behold x^e heavens grew exceed- 
irfff blacK: also it thundered and lightened in most 
fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked 
up in my dream, and saw the clouds rack at an unusual 
l^ate ; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, 
and saw also a man sitting upon a cloud, attended with 
the thousands of heaven: they were all in flaming 
fire ; also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard 
then a voice, saying, * Arise, ye dead, and come to judjA 
ment.' And with that the rocks rent, the grav*.» 
opened, and the dead that were therein came forth : 
some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward ; 
and some sought to hide themselves under the moujr 
tains. Then I saw the man that sat upon the cloud 
open the book, and bid the world draw near. Yrjt 
there was, by reason of a fierce flame that issued out 
and came from before him, a convenient distance b«r 
tween him and them, as between the judg© and the 
prisoners at the bar. (1 Cor. 15 ; 1 Thess. 4 : 16 ; Judi3 
15; John 5 : 28, 29 ; 2 Thess. 1 : 8-10; Rev. 20 : 11-14; 
Isa. 26: 21; Micah 7: 16, 17; Psa. 5: 4; 50: 1-3; 
Mai. 3: 2, 3; Dan. 7: 9, 10.) I heard it also pro- 
claimed to them that attended on the man that sat on 
the cloud, 'Gather together the tares, the chaff, and 
stubble, and cast them into the burning lake.' (Matt. 
3: 12; 18: 30; 24: 30; Mai. 4; 1.) And with that 
the bottomless pit opened, just whereabout I stood ; out 
4)f the mouth of which there came, in an abundant 
manner^ smoke, and coals of fire, with hideous noises. 
It was also said to the same persons, ' Gather my wheat 
into the garner.' (Luke 3 : 17.) And with that I saw 
many catched up and carried away into the clouds, but 



Ilg THE PILkjPIM'S progress, 

I was left behind. (1 Thess. 4 : 16, 17.) I also sougbt 
to hide myself, but I could not, for the man that sat 
upon the cloud still kept his eye upon me ; my sins 
ulso came into my mind, and my conscience did accuse 
• tie on every side. (Rom. 2: 14, 15.) Upon this I 
awakened from my sleep." 

Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of 
Hud sight ? 

Man. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was 
come, and that 1 was not ready for it : but this fright- 
ened me most, that the angels gathered up several, and 
left me behind ; also the pit of hell opened her mouth 
just where I stood. My conscience, too, afflicted me ; 
and, as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon 
me, showing indignation in his countenance. 

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, " Hast thou 
considered all these things? 

Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. 

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that 
they may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee for- 
ward in the way thou must go. Then Christian began 
to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his jour- 
ney. Then said the Interpreter, " The Comforter be 
always with thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the 
way that leads to the city." So Christian went on his 
way, saying, 

**Here I have seen things rare and profitable. 
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stabk 
In what I have begun to take in hand : 
Then let me think on them, and understand 
Wherefore they showed me were, and let me b9 
Tbankluif O good Interpreter, to tboe." 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



119 



THE THIRD STAGE. 

New f saw in my dream, that the highway up which 
(Thristian was to go, was fenced on either side with % 
wall, and that wall was called Salvation. (Isaiah 26 : 1.) 
tFp this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, 
but not without great difficulty, because of the load ou 
his back. 

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascend- 
ing ; and upon that place stood a cross, and a little 
below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my 
dream, that just as Christian came up with the crossi^ 
his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from 
off his back, and began to umble, and so continued 
to do till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, whero 
it fell in, and I saw it no more. 

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said 
with a merry heart, " He hath given me rest by his 
sorrow, and life by his death." Then he stood still & 
while, to look and wonder ; for it was very surprising^ 
to him that the sight of the cross should thus ease him 
of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, 
even till the springs that were in his head sent thb 
waters down his cheeks. (Zech. 12 : 10.) Now as ho 
stood looking and weeping, behold, three Shining Ones 
came to him, and saluted him with, " Peace be to thee." 
So the first said to him, " Thy sins be forgiven thee " 
(Mark 2:5); the second stripped him of his rags, and 
clothed him with change of raiment (Zech. 3:4); the 
third also set a mark on his forehead (Eph. 1 : 13), and 
gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bid him 
look on as he ran, and that he should give it in at the 



(20 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

celestial gate: so they went their way. Then Christian 
gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing 

** Thus far did I come laden with my sin, 
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was 
Till I came hither. What a place is this I 
Must here be the beginning of my bliss ? 
Must here the burden fall from off my back ? 
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack ? 
Blest cross ! blest sepulchre ! blest rather be 
The man that there was put to shame for me I " 

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, 
even until he came at the bottom, where he saw, a little 
out of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon 
their heels. The name of the one was Simple, of an- 
other Sloth, and of the third Presumption. 

Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to 
them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, 
You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast (Prov^. 
23 : 34), for the Dead Sea is under you, a gulf thathavh 
no bottom : awake, therefore, and come away ; be will- 
.ing also, and I will help you off with your irons. He 
also told them. If he that goeth about like a roaring 
lion (1 Pet. 5: 8) comes by, you will certainly become a 
prey to his teeth. With that they looked upon him, 
and began to reply in this sort : Simple said, I see no 
danger ; Sloth said. Yet a little more sleep ; and Pre- 
sumption said. Every tub must stand upon its own bot- 
tom. And so they lay down to sleep again, and Chris- 
tian went on his way. 

Yet he was troubled to think that men in that 
danger should so little esteem the kindness of him that 
so freely offered to help them, both by awakening of 
them, counselling of them, and proffering to help them 
off with their irons. And as he was troubled there* 
about, he espied two men coming tumbling over the 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 121 

wall, on the left hand of the narrow way ; and they 
made up apace to him. The name of the one was For- 
malist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I 
said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered with 
them into discourse. 

Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither 
^0 you go ? 

Form, and Hyp. We were born in the land of Vain- 
glory, and are going, for praise, to Mount Zion. 

Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which stand- 
eth at the beginning of the way ? Know ye not that 
it is written, that " he that cometh not in by the door, 
but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and 
a robber?" (John 10: 1.) 

Form, and Hyp. They said, that to go to the gate 
^or entrance was by all their countrymen counted too 
far about ; and that therefore their usual way was to 
'Oiake a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall, as 
they had done. 

Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against 
*^he Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to 
violate his revealed will ? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that as for that, 
h^ needed not to trouble his head thereabout : for what 
they did they had custom for, and could produce, if 
need were, testimony that would witness it for more 
than a thousand years. 

Chr. But, said Christian, will you stand a trial at 

law? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that custom, it 

being of so long standing as above a thousand years, 

would doubtless now be admitted as a thing legal by an 

impartial judge : and besides, said they, if we get into 

the way, what matter is it which way we get in ? If 

we are in, we are in : thou art but in the way, who, aa 



X22 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

we perceive, came in at the gate ; and we also are in 
the way, that came tumbling over the wall : wherein 
now is thy condition better than ours ? 

Ohr. I walk by the rule of my Master : you walk 
by the rude working of your fancies. You are counted 
thieves already by the Lord of the way : therefore i 
doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the 
way. You come in by yourselves without his direction, 
and shall go out by yourselves without his mercy. 

To this they made him but little answer ; only they 
bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they went 
on, every man in his way, without much conference one 
with another, save that these two men told Christian, 
that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but 
that they should as conscientiously do them as he. 
Therefore, said they, we see not wherein thou differest 
from us, but by the coat that is on thy back, which was, 
as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbors, to 
hide the shame of thy nakedness. 

Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be 
saved, since you came not in by the door. (Gal. 2 : 16.) 
And as for this coat that is on my back, it was given 
me by the Lord of the place whither I go ; and that, as 
you say, to cover my nakedness with. And I take it 
as a token of kindness to me ; for I had nothing but 
rags before. And besides, thus I comfort myself as I 
go. Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the 
city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I 
have his coat on my back ; a coat that he gave me 
freely in the day that he stripped me of my rags. I 
have, moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which per- 
haps you have takee no notice, which one of my Lord's 
most intimate associates fixed there in the day that my 
burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, more- 
over, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to com' 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. t9% 

fort me by reading as I go on the way ; I was also bid 
to give it in at the celestial gate, in token of my cer- 
tain going in after it : all which things I doubt you want, 
and want them because you came not in at the gate. 

To these things they gave him no answer ; only they 
looked upon each other, and laughed. Then I saw 
that they went all on, save that Christian kept beforcr 
who had no more talk but with himself, and that some- 
times sighingly, and sometimes comfortably : also he 
would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shin- 
ing Ones gave him, by which he was refreshed. 

I beheld then, that they all went on till they came 
to the foot of the hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which 
there was a spring. There were also in the same place 
two other ways besides that which came straight from 
the gate : one turned to the left hand, and the other to 
the right, at the bottom of the hill ; but the narrow 
way lay right up the hill, and the name of the going 
up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. ChristiaB 
now went to the spring (Isa. 49 : 10), and drank ther^ 
of to icjfresh himself, and then began to go up the hi?* 
^ying, 

' The hill, though high, I covet to ascend; 

The difficulty will not me offend ; 

For I perceive the way to life lies here : 

Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear ; 

Better, though difficultj the right way to go, 

Than wrong, though easy^ where the end is woe. " 

.-*he other two also came to the foot of the hill. Bit 
^nen they saw that the hill was steep and high, ancj 
that there were two other ways to go ; and supposing 
also that these two ways might meet again with thai 
up which Christian went, on the other side of the hill , 
therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now 
the name of one of those wa^s was Danger^ and t^ 



124 T^i^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

name of the other Destruction. So the one took tba 
way which is called Danger, which led him into a great 
wood ; and the other took directly up the way to 
Destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of 
dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose 
no more. 

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the 
till, where I perceived he fell from running to goings 
and from going to clambering upon his hands and his 
knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now 
about the midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant 
arbor, made by the Lord of the hill for the refresh 
ment of weary travellers. Thither, therefore, Christiaa 
got, where also he sat down to rest him: then he pulled 
his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his com- 
fort ; he also now began afresh to take a review of the 
coat or garment that was given to him as he stood by 
the cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell 
into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which d-e- 
tained him in that place until it was almost night ; ar.d 
in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now, as Lo 
was sleeping, there came one unto him, and awaked 
him, saying, " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider 
her ways, and be wise." (Prov. 6 : 6.) And with that. 
Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his 
way, and went apace till he came to the top of the hilL 

Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, 
there C3,me two men running amain ; the name of the 
one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust : to whom 
Christian said. Sirs, what's the matter ? you run the 
wrong way. Timorous answered, that they were going 
to the city of Zion, and had got up that diflScult place: 
but, said he, the farther we go, the more danger we 
meet with j wherefore we turned, and are going back 
again. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 1 

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of 
lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know 
not ; and we could not think, if we came within reach, 
but they would presently pull us in pieces. 

Chr. Then said Christian, You make me afraid v 
but whither shall I fly to be safe ? If I go back to mjr 
own country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, 
and I shall certainly perish there ; if I can get to the 
celestial city, I am sure to be in safety tliere : I must 
venture. To go back is nothing but death : to go for- 
ward is fear of death and life everlasting beyond it : I 
will yet go forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran. 
down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But 
thinking again of what he had heard from the men, he 
felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read there- 
in and be comforted ; but he felt, and found it not. 
Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not 
"v^hat to do ; for he wanted that which used to relieve 
him, and that which should have been his pass into the 
celestial city. Here, therefore, he began to be much 
perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he be- 
thought himself that he had slept in the arbor that ia 
on the side of the hill ; and falling down upon his 
knees, he asked God forgiveness for that foolish act, 
and then went back to look for his roll. But all the 
way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth the 
sorrow of Christian's heart? Sometimes he sighed, 
sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for 
being so foolish to fall asleep in that place, which was 
erected only for a little refreshment from his weari- 
ness. Thus therefore, he went back, carefully looking 
on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if 
happily he might find his roll, that had been his com- 
fort so many times on his journey. He went thus till 
he came again within sight of the arbor where he safe 



,26 THE PILURIM\ PROGRESS. 

and slept ; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, 
by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping unto 
his mind. (Rev. 2: 4; 1 Thess. 5: 6-8.) Thus, 
therefore, he now went on, bewailing his sinful sleep, 
eaying. Oh, wretched man that I am, that I should sleep 
in the daytime I that I should sleep in the midst of 
diflficulty ! that I should so indulge the flesh as to use 
that rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill 
hath erected only for the relief of the spirits of pil- 
grims ! How many steps have I taken in vain ! Thus 
it happened to Israel ; for their sin they were sent back 
again by the way of the Red Sea ; and I am made to 
tread those steps with sorrow, which I might have trod 
with delight, had it not been for this sinful sleep. 
How far might I have been on my way by this time ! 
I am made to tread those steps thrice over, which I 
needed not to have trod but once: yea, now also I am 
like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. Oh, 
that I had not slept ! 

Now by this time he was come to the arbor again, 
where for a while he sat down and wept ; but at lasui 
( IS Providence would have it), looking sorrowfully down 
under the settle, there he espied his roll, the which he 
with trembling and haste catched up, and put it into 
his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was 
when he had gotten his roll again ? For this roll was 
the assurance of his life, and aicceptance at the desired 
haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave 
thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where 
it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to 
his journey. But oh, how nimbly did he go up the 
rest of the hill ! Yet before he got up, the sun went 
down upon Christian ; and this made him again recall 
the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance ; and 
thus he again began to condole with himself: Oh, thou 



THt. PILCR/.^J'S r ^-OGRESS 127 

sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I like to be benighted 
in my journey ! I must walk without the sun, darkness 
must cover the path of my feet, and I must hear th« 
noise of the doleful creatures, because of my sinful 
sleep ! Now also he remembered the story that Mis- 
trust and Timorous told him of, how they were fright 
ened with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian 
to himself again. These beasts range in the night for 
their prey , and if they should meet with me in the 
dark, how should I shift them ? how should I escape 
being by them torn in pieces? Thus he went on Mve^ 
way. But while he was bewailing his unhappy mis« 
carriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold, there was a 
very stately palace before him, the name of which waa 
Beautiful, and it stood by the highway-side. 

So I saw in my dream that he made haste, and went 
forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. 
Now before he had gone far, he entered into a very 
narrow passage, which was about a furlong off th» 
Porter's lodge ; and looking very narrowly before him 
as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, 
thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and 
Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were 
chained, but he saw not the chains). Then he was 
afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them ; 
lor he thought nothing but death was before him. But 
the Porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, per- 
ceiving that Christian made a halt, as if he would go 
back, cried unto him, saying, is thy strength so small ? 
(Mark 4 : 40). Fear not the lions, for they are chained, 
and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and 
for discovery of those that have none : keep m the 
midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee. 

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of 
the lions, but taking crood heed to the directions ol 



128 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

the Porter ; he heard them roar, but they did him no 
harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on till 
he came and stood before the gate where the Porter 
was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what 
house is this ? and may I lodore here to-nio^ht ? The 
Porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of 
<^he hill, and he built it for the relief and security of 
pilgrims. The porter also asked whence he was, and 
<^rhither he was going. 

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, and 
am going to Mount Zion : but because the sun is now 
set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. 

Port. What is your name ? 

Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at 
the first was Graceless : I came of the race of Japheth, 
Tvhom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem. 
(G^en. 9 : 27). 

Port. But how does it happen that you come so 
liite ? The sun is set. 

Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched 
i»an that I am, I slept in the arbor that stands on 
the hillside ! Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been 
here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my 
evidence, and came without it to the brow of the hill ; 
and then feeling for it, and not finding it, I was forced 
with sorrow of heart to go back to the place where I 
^lept my sleep, where I found it; and now I am 
2ome. 

Port. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of 
his place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in 
to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the 
house. So Watchful the porter rang a bell, at the 
sound of which came out of the door of the house a 
grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and 
^ked why she was called. 



THE PILGRIM* S PROGRESS, 12$ 

Tke Porter answered, This man is on a journey from 
the city of Destruction to Mount Zion ; but being weary 
and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge here to- 
night : so I told him I would call for thee, who, after 
discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth to thee 
good, even according to the law of the house. 

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he 
was going ; and he told her. She asked him, also, how 
he got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked 
him what he had seen and met with in the way, and he 
told her. And at last she asked his name. So he 
said, It is Christian; and I have so much the more a. 
desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what I per- 
ceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill for 
the relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but 
the water stood in her eyes ; and, after a little paus^, 
she said, I will call forth two or three more of the 
family. So she ran to the door, and called out 
Prudence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little mov^ 
discourse with him, had him into the family ; ai>d 
many of them meeting him at the threshold of the 
house, said Come in, thou blessed of the Lord ; this 
house was built by the Lord of the hill on purpose to 
entertain such pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head, 
and followed them into the house. So when he was 
come in and sat down, they gave him something to 
drink, and consented together that, until supper was 
ready, some of them should have some particular dis- 
course with Christian, for the best improvement of 
time; and they appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity 
to discourse with him : and thus they began. 

Piety. Come, good Christian, since we have been 
BO loving to you as to receive you into our house this 
night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves 



I^e THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

thereby, talk with jou of all thing's that have happened 
to you in your pilgrimage. 

Chr. With a very good will ; and I am glad that 
you are so well disposed. 

Piety. What moved you at first to betake yourself 
to a pilgrim's life ? 

Chr. I was driven out of my native country by a 
dreadful sound that was in mine ears , to wit, that 
unavoidable destruction did attend me, if I abode iu 
that place where I was. 

Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of 
your country this way ? 

Chr. It was as God would have it ; for when I was 
under the fear of destruction, I did not know whither 
to go ; but by chance there came a man, even to me, 
as I was trembling and weeping, whose name is 
Evangelist, and he directed me to the wicket-gate, 
which else I should never have found, and so set me 
into the way that hath led me directly to this house. 

Piety. But did you not come by the house of the 
Interpreter ? 

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the re- 
membrance of which will stick by me as long as I live, 
especially three things : to wit, hew Christ, in despite 
of Satan, maintains his work of grace in the heart ; how 
the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of God's 
ttnercy ; and also the dream of him that thought in his 
sleep the day of judgment was come. 

Piety. Why, did you hear him tell his dream ? 

Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought: it 
made my heart ache as he was telling of it, but yet I am 
glad I heard it. 

Piety. Was this all you saw at the house of the In- 
terpreter ? 

Chk. No ; he tookone* and had me where he showed 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, ^^ 

me a stately palace, and how the people were clad in 
gold that were in it ; and how there carae a venturous 
man, and cut his way through the armed men that stood 
in the door to keep him out ; and how he was bid to 
come in and win eternal glory. Methought those 
things did ravish my heart. I would have stayed at 
that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I knew 
I had farther to go. 

Piety. And what saw you else in the way? 

Chr. Saw? Why, I went but a little farther, and I 
saw One, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon 
a tree ; and the very sight of him made my burden fall 
ojBf my back ; for I groaned under a very heavy burden, 
but then it fell down from off me. It was a strange 
thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before : yea, 
and while I stood looking up (tor ^.hen I could not for* 
bear looking), three Shining Ones lame to me. One 
of them testified that my sins wer^:) forgiven me, 
another stripped me of my rags and gavl p*^ this bioid* 
ered coat which you see ; and the third set the mark 
which you see in my forehead, and gave me this s^al^ 
roll (and with that he plucked it out of his bosom). 

Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not) 

Chr. The things that I have told you were the best: 
yet some other matters I saw, as, namely, I saw three 
men — Simple, Sloth, and Presumption — lie asleep, a lit- 
tle out of the way, as I came, with irons upon their 
heels ; but do you think I could awake them ? I also 
saw Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the 
wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion ; but they were 
quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them, but they 
would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard 
work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the 
lions' mouths ; and, truly, if it had not been for the 
good man, the porter that stands at the gate, I do not 



132 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

know but that, after all, I might have gone back againi 
but I thank God I am here, and thank you for receiv- 
ing me. 

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few 
questions, and desired his answer to them. 

Pru. Do you not think sometimes of the country 
from whence you came ? 

Chr. Yea, but with much shame and detestation* 
Truly, if I had been mindful of that country from 
whence I came out, I might have had opportunity to 
have returned ; but now I desire a better country, that 
is a heavenly one. (Heb. 11 : 15, 16.) 

Pru. Do you not yet bear away with you some of 
the things that then you were conversant withal ? 

Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially 
1>iy inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my 
countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But 
pow all those things are my grief; and might I but 
choose mine own things, I would choose never to think 
o^^' those things more: but when I would be a doing 
that which is best, that which is worst is with me. 
(Kom. 7 : 15, 21.) 

Pru. Do you not find sometimes as if those things 
were vanquished, which at other times are your per^ 
plexity ? 

Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom; but they are 
to me golden hours in which such things happen to me. 

Pru. Can you remember by what means you find 
your annoyances at times as if they were vanquished ? 

Chr. Yes : when I think what I saw at the cross, 
that will do it ; and when I look upon my broidered 
coat, that will do it ; and when I look into the roll thr*' 
I carry in my bosom, that will do it ; and when mj^ 
thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, that wii* 
ao >•* 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 133 

PRIT. And what is it that makes you so desirous to 
go to Mount Zion ? 

Chr. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did 
hang dead on the cross ; and there I hope to be rid of 
all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance 
to me : there they say there is no death (Isa. 25 : 8 .; 
Rev. 21 ; 4) ; and there I shall dwell with such com- 
pany as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love 
Him because I was by Him eased of my burden ; and I 
am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where 
I shall die no more, and with the company that shali 
continually cry. Holy., holy., holy. 

Then said Charity to Christian, Have you a family ? 
Aiw you a married man ? 

Chr. I have a wife and four small children. 

Char. And why did you not bring them along with 
vou? 

Chr. Then Christian wept, and said. Oh, how wil- 
lingly would I have done it ! but they were all of th-em 
utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage. 

Char. But you should have talked to them, and 
have endeavored to show them the danger of staying 
behind. 

Chr. So I did ; and told them also what God had 
shown to me of the destruction of our city ; but I 
seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed 
me not. (Gen. 19 : 14.) 

Char. And did you pray to God that he would 
bless your counsel to them ? 

Chr. Yes, and that with much affection ; for you 
must think that my wife and poor children were very 
dear to me. 

Char. But did j'^ou tell them of your own sorrow, 
and fear of destruction ? for I suppose that destruction 
was visible enough to you. 



134 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Che. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might 
also see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and 
also in my trembling under the apprehension of the 
judgment that did hang over our heads ; but all was 
not sufficient to prevail with them to come with me. 

Char. But what could they say for themselves, why 
they came not ? 

Chr. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this worlds 
and my children were given to the foolish delights of 
youth ; so, what by one thing, and what by another, 
they left me to wander in this manner alone. 

Char. But did you not with your vain life, damp 
all that you, by words, used by way of persuasion to 
bring them away with you ? 

Chr. Indeed, I cannot commend my life, for I am 
conscious to myself of many failings therein. I know 
also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon over* 
throw what, by argument or persuasion, he doth labor 
to fasten upon others for their good. Yet this I can 
say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any 
unseemly action, to make them averse to going on 
pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing they would tell 
me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of things 
(for their sakes) in which they saw no evil. Nay, I 
think I may say, that if what they saw in me did hinder 
them, it was my great tenderness in sinning against 
God, or of doing any wrong to my neighbor. 

Char. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, because his 
own works were evil, and his brother's righteous (1 
John, 3 : 12 ) ; and if thy wife and children have been 
offended with thee for this, they thereby show them- 
selves to be implacable to good ; thou hast delivered thy 
soul from their blood. (Ezek. 3 :19.) 

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking 
together until supper was ready. So when they had 



THE PILGRinrS PROGRESS. 13^ 

made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the table was 
furnished with fat things, and with wine that was well 
refined ; and all their talk at the table was about the 
Lord of the hill ; as, namely, about what he had done, 
and wherefore h^ did what he did, and why he had 
builded that house , and by what they said, I per- 
ceived that he had been a great warrior, and had fought 
with and slain him that had the power of death (Heb^ 
2 : 14, 15) \ but not without great danger to himself, 
which made me love him the more. 

For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, 
he did it with the loss of much blood. But that whicb 
put the glory of grace into all he did, was, that he did 
it out of pure love to his country. And besides, there 
were some of them of the household that said they 
had been and spoke with him since he did die on 
the cross ; and they have attested that they had it from 
his own lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, 
that the like is not to be found from the east to the 
west. They, moreover, gave an instance of what they 
affirmed ; and that was, he had stripped himself of his 
glory that he might do this for the poor ; and that 
thev heard him sav and affirm, that he would not 
dwell in the mountain of Zion alone. They said, 
moreover, that he had made many pilgrims princes, 
though by nature they were beggars born, and their 
original had been the dunghill. (1 Sam. 2 ; 8 ; Psa. 
113 : 7.) 

Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; 
and after they had committed themselves to their Lord 
for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The 
pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose win- 
dow opened towards the sun-rising. The name of the 
chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, and 
then he awoke and sang. 



1^6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

*' Where am I now ? Is this the love and care 
Of Jesus for the men that pilgrims are, 
Thus to provide that I should be forgiven, 
And dwell already the next door to heaven ! " 

So in the morning they all got up ; and, after some 
more discourse, they told him that he should not depart 
till they had shown him the rarities of that place. 
And first the}^ had him into the study, where they 
showed him records of the greatest antiquity ; in which, 
as I remember my dream, they showed him the pedi- 
gree of the Lord of the hill, that he was the Son of the 
Ancient of days, and came by eternal generation. Here 
also was more fully recorded the acts that he had done, 
and the names of many hundreds that he had taken 
into his service; and how he had placed them in sucb. 
habitations that could neither by length of days, nor de- 
cays of nature, be dissolved. 

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts 
of his servants had done ; as how they had subdued 
kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promise*, 
stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of 
fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness 
were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned 
to flight the armies of the aliens. (Heb. 11 : 33, 34.) 

Then they read again another part of the records of 
the house, where it was shown how willing their Lord 
was to receive into his favor any, even any, though 
they in time past had offered great affronts to his per- 
son and proceedings. Here also were several other his- 
tories of many other famous things, of all which Chris- 
tian had a view , as of things both ancient and modern, 
together with prophecies and predictions of things that 
have their certain accomplishment, both to the drea4 
and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and soIac« 
of pilgrims. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 137 

The next day they took him, and had him into the 
armory, where they showed him all manner of furni? 
ture which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as 
sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes 
that would not wear out. And there was here enough 
of this to harness out as many men for the service 
of their Lord as there be stars in the heaven for 
multitude. 

They also showed him some of the engines with 
which some of his servants had done wonderful things. 
They showed him Moses' rod ; the hammer and nail 
with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, 
and lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the 
armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox-goad 
-wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They 
fihowed him also the jawbone with which Sampson did 
^uch mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the 
sling and stone with which David slew Goliah of Gath; 
and the sword also with which their Lord will kill the 
ptan of sin, in the day that he shall rise up t j the prey. 
7 'hey showed him, besides, many excellent things, with 
which Christian was much delighted. This done, they 
went to their rest again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he 
-^•ot up to go forward, but they desired him to stay till 
the next day also ; and then, said they, we will, if the 
day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains ; 
which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort, 
because they were nearer the desired haven than the 
place where at present he was ; so he consented and 
stayed. When the morning was up, they had him to 
the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he 
did, and behold, at a great distance, he saw a most 
pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods, 
vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs 



tjg THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

and fountains, very delectable to behold. (Isa. 33 : I61, 
17.) Then he asked the name of the country. They 
said it was ImmanucFs Land : and it is as common, said 
they, as this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And 
when thou comes t there, from thence thou may est see 
to the gate of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that 
live there will make appear. 

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and 
they were willing he should. But first, said they, let 
us go again into the armory. So they did ; and when 
he came there they harnessed him from head to foot 
with what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet 
with assaults in the way. He being therefore thus ac- 
coutred, walked out with his friends to the gate ; and 
there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass 
by. Then the Porter answered. Yes. 

Chr. Pray, did you know him ? said he. 

Port. I asked his name, and he told me it wa^ 
Faithful. 

Chr. Oh said Christian, I know him ; he is my 
townsman, my near neighbor ; he comes from the place 
where I was born. How far do you think he may be 
before ? 

Port. He is got by this time below the hill. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord 
be with thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase 
iov the kindness thou hast showed to me. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS* ^5 



THE FOURTH STAGE. 

Then he began to go forward ; but Discretion, Piety, 
Charity, and Prudence would accompany him down to 
the foot of the hill. So they went on together, reiter- 
ating their former discourses, till they came to go 
down the hill. Then said Christian, As it was difficult 
coming up, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going 
down. Yes, said Prudence, so it is ; for it is a hard 
matter for a man to go down into the valley of Hu- 
miliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the 
way; therefore, said she, we are come out to accom- 
pany thee down the hill. So he began to go down 
the hill, but very wearily ; yet he caught a slip or two. 

Then I saw in my dream, that these good com- 
panions, when Christian was got down to the bottom 
of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, 
aud a cluster of raisins ; and then he went on his way. 

•* Whilst Christian is among his godly friends, 
Their golden mouths make him sufficient mends 
For all his griefs ; and when they let him go, 
He's clad with northern steel from top to toe." 

But now, in this valley of Humiliation, poor 
Christian was hard put to it ; for he had gone but a 
little way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the 
field to meet him : his name is Apollyon. Then did 
Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind 
whether to go back, or to stand his ground. But he 
considered again, that he had no armor for his ba' ^, and 
therefore thought that to turn the back to him might 
give him greater advantage with ease to pierce him with 
his darts ; therefore he lesolved to venture and stand 



340 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

his ground: for, thought he, had I no more in mine 
eje than the saving of my life, it would be the best 
way to stand. 

So he went on, and ApoUyon met him. Now the 
monster was hideous to behold; he was clothed with 
scales like a fish, and they are his pride ; he had wings 
^0, a dragon, and feet like a bear ; and out of his belly 
came fire and smoke ; and his mouth was as the mouth 
of a lion. When he was come up to Christian, he be. 
held him with a disdainful countenance, and thus began 
';o question him. 

Apollyon. Whence came you, and whither ar<5 yon 
(i»ound ? 

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, which 
is the place of all evil, and I am going to the city of Zioii. 

Apol. By this I perceive that thou art one of my 
subjects; for all that country is mine, and I am tie 
prince and god of it. How is it, then, that thou haut 
run away from thy king? Were it not that I hope 
thou may est do me more service, I would strike thee 
now at one blow to the ground. 

Chr, I was, indeed, born in your dominions, biit 
your service was hard, and your wages such as man 
could not live on ; for the wages of sin is death (Rom. 
6 : 23) ; therefore, when I was come to years, I did, as 
other considerate persons do, look out if perhaps I 
might mend myself 

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose 
his subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee ; but since 
thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content 
to go l^ack, and what our country will afford I do here 
promib'3 to give thee. 

Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to the 
King of princes; and how can I with fairness go back 
with thee ? 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. \^% 

Apol. Thou hast done in this according to the 
g^roverb, *' changed a bad for a worse ; " but it is ordi- 
nary for those that have professed themselves his 
servants, after a while to give him the slip, and return 
again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well. 

Chr. I have given him my faith, and sworn my 
allegiance to him ; how then can I go back from this, 
and not be hanged as a traitor. 

Apol. Thou didst the same by me, and yet I am 
willing to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again 
^nd go back. 

Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage : and 
besides, I count that the Prince under whose banner 
I now stand, is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon 
also what I did as to my compliancy with thee. And 
besides, oh, thou destroying Apollyon, to speak truth, 
I like his service, his wages, his servants, his govern* 
»'ent, his company, and country, better than thine; 
therefore leave off to persuade me further: I am his 
s*<rvant, and I will follow him. 

Apol. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, 
^ hat thou art like to meet with in the way that thou 
goest. Thou knowest that for the most part his 
S'^rvants come to an ill end, because they are trans- 
gressors against me and my ways. How many of 
them have been put to shameful deaths I And besides, 
thou countest his service better than mine ; whereas 
he never yet came from the place where he is, to 
deliver any that served him out of their enemies' 
hands : but as for me, how many times, as all the 
world very well knows, have I delivered, either by 
power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, 
from him and his, though taken by them I And so 
will I deliver thee. 

Chb. His forbearing at present to deliver them, is 



14« THE PILGRIM ^S PROGRESS. 

on purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave 
to him lo tlie end : and as for the ill end thou say est 
they come to, that is most glorious in their account. 
For, for present deliverance, they do not much expect 
it; for they stay for their glory; and then they shall 
have it, when their Prince comes in his and the glory 
of the angels. 

Apol. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy 
service to him ; and how dost thcu think to receive 
wages of him ? 

Chr. Wherein, oh, Apollyon, have I been unfaithful 
to him? 

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when 
thou was almost choked in the Slough of Despond. 
Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy 
burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy 
Prince had taken it off. Thou didst simply sleep, 
and lose thy choice things. Thou wast almost per- 
suaded also to go back at the sight of the lions. And 
when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou 
hast seen and heard, thou art inwardly desirous of 
vainglory in all thou sayest or doest. 

Che. All this is true, and much more which thou 
hast left out ; but the Prince whom I serve and honor 
is merciful, and ready to forgive. But, besides, these 
infirmities possessed me in thy country, for there I 
sucked them in, and I have groaned under them, been 
sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince. 

Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, 
saying, I am an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his 
person, his laws, and people : I am come out on pur- 
pose to withstand thee. 

Chr. Apollyon beware what you do, for I am in the 
King's highway, the way of holiness ; therefore take 
beed to yourself. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 145 

Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole 
breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this 
matter. Prepare thyself to die ; for I swear by my in- 
fernal den, that thou shalt go no farther : here will I 
spill thy soul. And with that he threw a flaming dart 
at his breast; but Christian had a shield in his hand, 
with which he caught it, and so prevented the danger 
of that. 

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to 
bestir him ; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throw- 
ing darts as thick as hail ; by the which, notwithstand- 
ing all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon 
wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. This 
made Christian give a little back : Apollyon, therefore, 
followed his work amain, and Christian again took 
courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This 
sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Chris- 
tian was almost quite spent ; for you must know, that 
Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow 
weaker and weaker. 

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to 
gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, 
gave him a dreadful fall : and with that Christian's 
sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am 
sure of thee now : and with that he had almost pressed 
him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. 
But, as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetch- 
ing his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this 
good man. Christian nimbly reached out his hand for 
his sword, and caught it, saying. Rejoice not against 
me, O mine enemy : when I fall, I shall arise (Mic. 7 • 
8) i and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which 
made him give back, as one that had received his mortal 
^ound. Christian perceiving that, made at him again, 
^jiog, Nay, in all these things we are more than co]» 



144 ^^^ ^^^ GRIM 'S PROGRESS. 

querors, through Him that loved us. (Rom. 8 : 37^) 
And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon wings, 
and sped liim away, that Christian saw hkn no more. 
(James 4: 7.) 

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had 
Been and heard, as I did, what yelling and hideous 
roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight ; he 
spake like a dragon : and on the other side, what sighs 
and groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw 
him all the while give so much as one pleasant look 
till ha perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his 
two-edged sword ; then, indeed, he did smile, and look 
upward I But it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I 
saw. 

So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will 
here give thanks to him that hath delivered me out of 
the mouth of the lion, to him mat did help me against 
Apollyon, And so he did, saying, 

•* Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, 
Designed my ruin \ therefore to this end 
He sent him harness'd out ; and he, with rage 
That heUish was, did fiercely me engage : 
But blessed Michael helped me, and I, ' 
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly : 
Therefore to Him let me give lasting praise, 
And thank and bless his holy name always.** 

Then there came to him a hand with some of the 
leaves of the tree of life, the which Christian took and 
applied to the wounds that he had received in the bat- 
tle, and was healed immediately. He also sat down in 
that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that 
Was given him a little before : so, being refreshed, he 
addressed himself to his journey with his sword drawn 
in his band ; for he said, I know not but soma other 



^""SHRJ^TlAi^? JN TPg^Al^LE.Y .cy^ J1ia SHADOV/ "^.BBA^ri^^ 




THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 145 

enemy may be at hand. Bnt he met with no other af- 
front from Apollyon quite through this valley. 

Now at the end of this valley was another, called 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and Christian must 
needs go through it, because the way to the Celestial 
City lay through the midst of it. Now, this valley is 
a very solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah thus de- 
scribes it : "A wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a 
land of drought, and of the Shadow of Death, a land 
that no man " (but a Christian) " passeth through, and 
where no man dwelt." ( Jer. 2 : 6.) 

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in hi* 
fight with Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see. 

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian wai? 
got to the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met 
him two men, children of them that brought up an eviv 
report of the good land (Num. 13 : 32), making haste t«5 
go back ; to whom Christian spake as follows. 

Chr. Whither are you going ? 

Men. They said. Back, back ; and we would have 
you do so too, if either life or peace is prized by you. 

Chr. Why, what's the matter? said Christian. 

Men. Matter ! said they ; we were going that way 
as you are going, and went as far as we durst ; and in- 
deed we were almost past coming back ; for had we 
gone a little farther, we had not been here to bring the 
TQews to thee. 

Chr. But what have you met with ? said Christian, 

Men. Wh}^ we were almost in the Valley of th© 
Shadow of Death, but that by good hap we looked be- 
fore us, and saw the danger before we came to it. (Psa* 
44. 19; 107: 19.) 

Chr. But what have you seen ? said Christian. 

Men. Seen ? why the valley itself, which is as dark 
a& pitch : we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and 

10 



^46 THE PILGRIM* S PROGRESS. 

dragons of the pit : we heard also in that valley a coo* 
tinual howling and yelling, as of a people under unut* 
terable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and 
irons : and over that valley hang the discouraging clouds 
of confusion : Death also doth always spread his winga 
over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being ut- 
terly without order. (Job 3 : 5 ; 10 ; 22.) 

Chr. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by 
what you have said, but that this is my way to the de- 
sired haven. (Psalm 44: 18, 19; Jer. 2: 6.) 

Men. Be it thy way ; we will not choose it for ours^ 

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but 
fitill with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he 
should be assaulted. 

I saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached, 
there was on the right hand a very deep ditch ; that 
ditch is it into which the blind have led the blind in all 
ages, and have both there miserably perished. Again, 
behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous 
quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no 
bottom for his foot to stand on . into that quag King 
David once did fall, and had no doubt therein been 
smothered, had not He that is able plucked him out. 
(Psa. 69 : 14.) 

The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and 
therefore good Christian was the more put to it ; for 
when he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the 
one hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire on the 
other ; also, when he sought to escape the mire, with- 
out great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the 
ditch. Thus he went on, and I heard him here sigh 
bitterly ; for besides the danger mentioned above, the 
pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes when he lifted 
up his foot to go forward, he knew not where or upon, 
what he should set it next. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 14^ 

About tlie midst of this valley I perceived the mouth 
of hell to be, and it stood also hard by the wayside. 
Now, thought Christian, what shall I do ? And ever 
and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such 
abundance, with sparks and liideous noises (things that 
cared not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon be- 
fore), that he was forced to put up his sword, and be- 
take himcelf to another weapon, called All-prayer 
(Eph. 6 : 18) ; so he cried, in my hearing, O Lord, I 
beseech thee, deliver my soul. (Psa. 116 : 4.) Thus he 
went on a great while, yet still the flames would be 
reaching towards him ; also he heard doleful voices, 
and rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought 
he should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire 
in the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these 
dreadful noises were heard by him for several miles to- 
^fether , and coming to a place where he thought he 
heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him, 
lie stopped and began to muse what he had best to do. 
Sometimes he had half a thought to go back ; then 
again he thought he might be half way through the 
\ alley. He remembered also, how he had already van- 
quished many a danger; and that the danger of going 
tack might be much more than for to go forward. So 
he resolved to go on \ yet the fiends seemed to come 
nearer and nearer. But when they were come even al- 
most at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, I 
will walk in the strength of the Lord God. So they 
gave back, and came no farther. 

One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that 
now poor Christian was so confounded that he did not 
know his own voice ; and thus I perceived, just when 
he was come over against the mouth of the burning pit, 
one of the vricked ones got behind him, and stepped up 
Boftly to him, and whisperingly suggested many griev* 



1^8 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

ous blasphemies to him, which he verily thought had 
proceeded from his own mind. This put Christian more 
to it than anything that he met with before, even to 
think that he should now blaspheme Him that he loved 
so much before. Yet if he could have helped it, he 
would not have done it; but he had not the discretion 
either to stop his ears, or to know from whence these 
blasphemies came. 

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate 
condition some considerable time, he thought he heard 
the voice of a man, as going before him, saying. Though 
I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I 
will fear no evil, for thou art with me. (Psa. 23: 4.) 

Then was he glad, and that for these reasons : 

First, Because he gathered from thence, that some 
who feared God were in this valley as well as himself. 

Secondly., For that he perceived God was with them, 
though in that dark and dismal state. And why not, 
thought he, with me, though by reason of the impedi' 
ment that attends this place, I can not perceive it. (Job 
9:11.) 

Thirdly, For that he hoped (could he overtake themf 
to have company by and by. So he went on, and called 
to him that was before ; but he knew not what to 
answer, for that he also thought himself to be alone. 
And by and by the day broke : then said Christian, 
'' He hath turned the shadow of death into the morn- 
ing." (Amos 5 : 8.) 

Now morning being come, he looked back, not out 
of desire to return, bat to see, by the light of the day, 
what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he 
saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, 
and the quag that was on the other; also, how narrow 
the way Avas which led betwixt them both. Also, now 
he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 14^ 

pit, but all afar off ; for after break of day thej; came 
not nigh ; yet they were discovered to him, according 
to that which is written, '-'- He discovereth deep things 
out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow 
of death." (Job 12 : 22.) 

Now was Christian much affected with this deliv^ 
erance from all the dangers of his solitary way ; which 
dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he 
saw them more clearly no\Y , because the light of the 
dii^y made them conspicuous to him. And about this 
time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to 
Christian ; for you must note, that though the first pai t 
of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous, 
yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was, if 
possible, far more dangerous ; for, from the place wherti 
he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way 
was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets* 
here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelv- 
ings-down there, that bad it now been dark, as it was 
when he came the first part of the way, had he had a 
thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away ; but, 
as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then said he, 
*' His candle shineth on my head, and by his light I go 
through darkness." (Job 29 : 3.) 

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the 
valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of the 
valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of 
men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly ; 
and while I was musing what should be the reason, I 
espied a little before me a cave, where two giants. 
Pope and Pagan, dwelt in old time ; by whose power 
and tyranny the men whose bones, blood, ashes, &c., 
lay there, were cruelly put to death. But by this place 
Christian went without much danger, whereat I some- 
what wondered ; but I have learnt since, that Pagan 



J CO Tt^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

has been dead many a day ; and as for the other, though 
he be yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and also of the 
many shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger 
days, grown so crazy and stiff in his joints that he can 
now do little more than sit in his cave's mouth, grin- 
ning at pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails be- 
cause he can not come at them. 

So I saw that Christian went on his way ; yet at 
the sight of the old man that sat at the mouth of the 
cave, he could not tell what to think, especially because 
he spoke to him, though he could not go after him, say- 
ing. You will never mend till more of you be burned. 
But he held his peace, and set a good face on it; and 
so went by, and catched no hurt. Then sang Christian, 

** Oh, -world of wonders (I can say no less), 
That I should be preserved in that distress 
That I have met with here ! Oh, blessed be 
That hand that from it hath delivered me ! 
Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, 
Did compass me, while I this vale was in ; 
Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie 
My path about, that worthless, silly I 
Might have beeu catch'd, entangl'd, and cast down j 
But since I live, let Jesus wear the crown." 



THE FIFTH STAGE. 

Now, as Christian went on his way, he came to a 
little ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pil- 
grims might see before them : up there, therefore. 
Christian went ; and looking forward, he saw Faithful 
before him upon his journey. Then said Christian 
aloud, Ho, ho ; so, ho , stay, and I will be your com- 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 151 

panion. At that Faithful looked behind him ; to whom 
Christian cried again, Stay, stay, till I come up to you. 
But Faithful answered, No, I am upon my life, and the 
avenger of blood is behind me. 

At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting 
to all his strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and 
did also overrun him ; so the last was first. Then did 
Christian vaingloriousl}^ smile, because he had gotten 
the start of his brother ; but not taking good heed to 
his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not 
rise again until Faithful came up to help him. 

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly 
on together, and had sweet discourse of all things that 
had happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus 
Christian began. 

Chr. My honored and well-beloved brother Faith- 
ful, I am glad that I have overtaken you, and that God 
has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as com- 
panions in this so pleasant a path. 

Faith. I had thought, my dear friend, to have your 
company quite from our town, but you did get the start 
of me ; wherefore I was forced to come thus much of 
the way alone. 

Chr. How long did you stay in the city of De- 
struction before you set out after me on your pil- 
grimage ? 

Faith. Till I could stay no longer ; for there was a 
great talk presently after you were gone out, that our 
city would, in a short time, with fire from heaven, be 
burnt down to the ground. 

Chr. What, did your neighbors talk so ? 

Faith. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's 
mouth. 

Chr. What, and did no more of them but you como 
out to escape the danger ? 



f59 THE PILGR^^f'S PROGRESS. 

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk 
thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly believe 
it ; for, in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of 
them deridingly speak of you and of your desperate 
journey, for so they called this your pilgrimage. But I 
did believe, and do still, that the end of our city will 
be with fire and brimstone from above ; and therefore I 
have made my escape. 

Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable ? 

Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed 
you till he came to the Slough of Despond, where, as 
some said, he fell in ; but he would not be known to 
have so done : but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled 
with that kind of dirt. 

Chr. And what said the neighbors to him ? 

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been held 
greatly in derision, and that among all sorts of people : 
some do mock and despise him, and scarce will any set 
him on work. He is now seven times worse than if he 
had never gone out of the city. 

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, 
since they also despise the way that he forsook ? 

Faith. Oh, they say, Hang him ; he is a turncoat : 
he was not true to his profession ! I think God has 
stirred up even His enemies to hiss at him, and make 
him a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way. (Jer. 
^9 : 18, 19.) 

Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came 
out? 

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he leered 
away on the other side, as one ashamed of what he had 
done^ so I spake not to him. 

Chr. Well, at my first setting out I had hopes of 
that man ; but now I fear he will perish in the over- 
throw of the city. For it has happened to him accord- 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 153 

ing to the true proverb, " The dog is turned to his 
vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her wal- 
lowing in the mire." (2 Pet. 2 : 22.) 

Faith. These are my fears of him, too ; but who 
can hinder that which will be ? 

Chr. Well, neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let us 
leave him, and talk of things that more immediately 
concern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met 
with in the way as you came ; for I know you have met 
with some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder. 

Faith. I escaped the slough that I perceived you 
fell into, and got up to the gate without that danger ; 
only I met with one whose name was Wanton, who had 
like to have done me mischief. 

Chr. It was well you escaped her net : Joseph waj^ 
hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as you did ; 
but it had like to have cost him his life. (Gen. 39 
11-13.) Bub what did she do to you ? 

Faith. You cannot think (but that you Know some* 
thing) what a flattering tongue she had ; she lay at me 
hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of 
content, 

Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a 
good conscience. 

Faith. You know that I mean all carnal and fleshly 
content. 

Chr. Thank God that you escaped her : the abhor- 
red of the Lord shall fall into her pit. (Prov. 22 : 14.) 

Faith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly es- 
cape her or no. 

Chr. Why, I trow you did not consent to her de* 
sires ? 

Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered 
an old writing thai 1 had seen, which said, '^ Her steps 
take hold on hell.' (Prov. 5 : 5.) So I shut mine eyes. 



je^ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

because I would not be bewitched with her looks. (Jolr 
31 : 1.) Then she railed on me, and I went on my way. 

Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as yo« 
came? 

Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called 
Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me 
what I was, and whither bound. I told him that I wa& 
a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the 
old man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow ; wilt thou 
be content to dwell with me for the wages that I shall 
give thee ? Then I asked his name, and where he 
dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and that 
he dwelt in the town of Deceit. (Eph. 3 : 22.) 1 
asked him then what was his work, and what the wage? 
that he would give. He told me that his work was 
many delights ; and his wages, that I should be his heir 
at last. I further asked him, what house he kept, and 
other servants he had. So he told me that his hous^ 
"vras maintained with all the dainties of the world, and 
that his servants was those of his own begetting. Then 
I asked how many children he had. He said that he 
had but three daughters, the Lust of the Flesh, the 
l(Ust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life (1 John, 2 ; 16) ; 
and that I should marry them if I would. Then I 
asked, how long time he would have me live with him ? 
and he told me, as long as he lived himself. 

Chr. Well, and what conclusions came the old man 
and you to at last ? 

Faith. Why, at first I found myself somewhat in- 
clinable to go with the man, for I thought he spoke 
very fair ; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with 
him, I saw there written, " Put off the old man with 
his deeds." 

Chr. And how then ? 

Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, fg§ 

that, whatever he said, and however he flattered, when 
he got me home to his house he would sell me for a 
slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not 
come near the door of his house. Then he reviled me, 
and told me that he would send such a one after me 
that should make my way bitter to my soul. So I 
turned to go away from him ; but just as I turned my- 
self to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and 
give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he 
had pulled part of me after himself : this made me cry, 
" Oh, wretched man." (Rom. 7 : 24.) So I went on 
my way up the hill. 

Now, when I got about half the way up, I looked 
behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the 
wind ; so he overtook me just about the place where the 
settle stands. 

Just there, said Christian, did I sit down torestme ; 
cut, being overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll 
out of my bosom. 

Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soot 
as the man overtook me, it was but a word and a blow; 
for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. But 
when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him 
wherefore he served me so. He said because of my 
secret inclining to Adam the First. And with that he 
struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat 
me down backward ; so I lay at his feet as dead as be- 
fore. So when I came to myself again, I cried, have 
mercy ; but he said, I know not how to show mercy ; 
and with that he knocked me down again. He had 
doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by 
and bid him forbear. 

Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear? 

Faith. I did not know Him at first : but as He 
went by, I perceived the holes in His hands and His 



fjft THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

side : then I concluded that He was our Lord. So I 
went up the hill. 

Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He 
spareth none ; neither knoweth he how to show mercy 
to those that transgress his law. 

Faith. I know it very well ; it was not the liret 
time that he has met with me. 'Twas he that came to 
me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me 
that he would burn my house over my head if I staid 
there. 

Chr. But did you not see the house that stood thero 
on the top of the hill, on the side of which Moses met 
you? 

Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it 
But, for the lions, I think they were asleep, for it w^s 
about noon . and because I had so much of the d*" be- 
fore me, I passed by the porter, and came down the hi! i. 

Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by ; 
but I wish that you had called at the house, for thej^ 
would have showed you so many rarities that yoa 
would scarce have forgot them to the day of your death. 
But pray tell me, did you meet anybody in the Valley 
of Humility ? 

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would 
willingly have persuaded me to go back again with him : 
his reason was, for that the valley was altogether with- 
out honor. He told me, moreover, that to go there was 
the way to disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arrogancy, 
Self-Conceit, Worldly Glory, with others, who he knew, 
as he said, would be very much offended if I made such 
a fooj of myself as to wade through this valley. 

Chr. Well, and how did you answer him ? 

Faith. I told him, that although all these that he 
naned might claim a kindred of me, and that rightly 
(jfor indeed they were my relations, according^ to th« 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 15^ 

flesh), yet since I became a pilgrim they have disowned 
me, and I also have rejected them ; and therefore they 
were to me now no more than if they had never been 
of my lineage. I told him, moreover, that as to this 
valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing ; for be- 
fore honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a 
fall. Therefore, said I, I had rather go through this 
valley to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest 
than choose that which he esteemed most worthy of 
our affections. 

Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley? 

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame ; but of all the men 
that I met with on my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears 
the wrong name. The others would be said nay, after 
a little argumentation, and somewhat else ; but this 
boldfaced Shame would never have done. 

Chk. Why, what did he say to you ? 

Faith. What ? Why, he objected against religion 
itself. He said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business, 
for a man to mind religion. He said that a tender 
conscience was an unmanly thing ; and that for a man 
to watch over his words and ways, so as to tie up him- 
self from that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of 
the times accustom themselves unto, would make him 
the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but a 
few of the mighty, rich, or wise, were ever of my opin- 
ion ; nor any of them neither, before they were per- 
suaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fondness to 
venture the loss of all for nobody knows what. (1 
Cor. 1 : 26 ; 3:18; Phil. 3 : 7-9 ; John 7 : 48.) He, 
moreover, objected the base and low estate and condi- 
tion of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the times 
in which they lived ; also, their ignorance and want of 
understanding in all natural science. Yea, he did hold 
ine to it at that rate also, about a great many more 



1^8 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

things than here I relate ; as, that it was a shame to sit 
whining and mourning under a sermon, and a shame to 
come sighing and groaning home ; that it was a shame 
to ask my neighbor forgiveness for petty faults, or to 
make restitution where I have taken from any. He 
said also, that religion made a man grow strange to the 
great, because of a few vices, which he called by finer 
names, and made him own and respect the base, be- 
cause of the same religious fraternity : and is not this, 
said he, a shame ? 

Chr. And what did you say to him ? 

Faith. Say ? I could not tell what to say at first. 
Vea, he put me so to it, that my blood came up in my 
£ice ; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost 
beat me- quite off. But at last I began to consider that 
that which is highly esteemed among men, is had in 
abomination with God. (Luke 16 : 15.) And I thought 
again, this Shame tells me what men are ; but he tells 
me nothing what God or the word of God is. And I 
thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall not 
be doomed to death or life according to the hectoring 
spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom and 
the law of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what 
Ood says is indeed best, though all the men in the 
world are against it. Seeing, then, that God prefers his 
religion ; seeing God prefers a tender conscience ; see- 
ing they that make themselves fools for the Kingdom 
of Heaven are wisest, and that the poor man that loveth 
Christ is richer than the greatest man in the world that 
hates him ; Shame, depart, thou art an enemy to my 
salvation. Shall I entertain thee against my sovereign 
Lord? How then shall I look Him in the face at His 
coming ? (Mark 8 : 38.) Should I now be ashamed of 
His ways and servants, how can I expect the blessing ? 
But indeed this Shame was a bold villain; 1 could 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 15^ 

scarcely shake him out of my company ; yea, he would 
be haunting of me, and continually whispering me in 
the ear with some one or other of the infirmities that 
attend religion. But at last I told him, that it was but 
in vain to attempt further in this business ; for those 
things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory: 
and so at last I got past this importunate one. And 
when I had shaken him off, then I began to sing : 

" The trials that those men do meet withal, 
That are obedient to the heavenly call, 
Are manifold, and suited to the flesh. 
And come, and come, and come again afresh ; 
That now, or some time else, we by them, may 
Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 
Oh, let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims, then. 
Be vigilant, and 'quit themselves like men." 

Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst with* 
stand this villain so bravely ; for of all, as thou sayest, 
I think he has the wrong name : for he is so bold as to 
follow us in the streets, and to attempt to put us to 
shame before all men ; that is, to make us ashamed of 
that which is good. But if he was not himself auda* 
cious, he would never attempt to do as he does. But 
let us still resist him ; for, notwithstanding all his 
bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. 
" The wise shall inherit glory," said Solomon ; " but 
shame shall be the promotion of fools." (Prov. 3 : 35.) 

Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against 
Shame, that would have us to be valiant for truth upon 
the earth. 

Chr. You say true ; but did you meet with nobody 
else in that valley ? 

Faith. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of 
the way through that, and also through the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death. 

Che. 'Twas well for you; I am sure it fared faf 



l5o ^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

otherwise with me. I had for a long season, as soon 
almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat 
with that foul fiend ApoUyon ; yea, I thought verily 
he would have killed me, especially when he got me 
down, and crusiied me under him, as if he would have 
crushed me to pieces ; for, as he threw me, my sword 
flew out of my hand : nay, he told me he was sure of 
me ; but I cried unto God, and he heard me, and de- 
livered me out of all my troubles. Then I entered 
into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no 
light for almost half the way through it. I thought I 
should have been killed there over and over; but at 
last day brake, and the sun rose, and I went through 
that which was behind with far more ease and quiet. 

Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as they went on. 
Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man 
whose name was Talkative, walking at a distance beside 
them for in this place there was room enough for 
them all to walk. He was a tall man, and something 
more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man 
Faithful addressed himself in this manner. 

Faith. Friend, whither away ? Are you going to 
the heavenly country? 

Talk. I am going to the same place. 

Faith. That is well ; then I hope we may have your 
good company ? 

Talk. With a very good will, will I be your com- 
panion. 

Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together, and 
let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are 
profitable. 

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very 
acceptable, with you or with any other ; and I am glad 
that I have met with those that incline to so good a 
work : for to speak the truth, there are but few who 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. i^i 

care thus to spend their time as they are in their 
travels, but choose much rather to be speaking of 
things to no profit; and this hath been a trouble to me. 

Faith. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented ; for 
what thing so worthy of the use of the tongue and 
mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of 
heaven ? 

Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your sayings 
are full of conviction ; and I will add, What thing is 
so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the 
things of God ? What things so pleasant ? that is, if 
a man hath any delight in things that are wonderful. 
For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the his- 
tory, or the mystery of things ; or if a man doth love 
to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he 
find things recorded so delightful, and so sweetly 
penned, as in the Holy Scripture ? 

Faith. That is true ; but to bo profited by such 
things in our talk, should be our chief design. 

Talk. That is it that I said ; for to talk of such 
things is most profitable ; for by so doing a man may 
get knowledge of many things ; as of the vanity of 
earthly things, and the benefit of things above. Thus 
in general ; but more particularly, by this a man may 
learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency 
of our works, the need of Christ's righteousness, &c. 
Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent, 
to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like \ by this, also, 
a man may learn what are the great promises and 
consolations of the Gospel, to his own comfort. 
Further, by this a man may learn to refute false 
opinions, to vindicate the truth, and also to instruct the 
ignorant. 

Faith. All this is true ; and glad am I to hear 
these things from you. 



j52 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause that so 
few understand the need of faith, and the necessity of 
a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life ; 
but ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which 
a man can by no means obtain the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of 
these is the gift of Grod ; no man attaineth to them by 
human industry, or only by the talk of them. 

Talk. All that I know very well ; for a man can 
receive nothing, except it be given him from heaven : 
all is of grace, not of works. I could give you a 
hundred scriptures for the confirmation of this. 

Faith. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one 
thing that we shall at this time found our discourse upon? 

Talk. What you will. I will talk of things 
heavenly, or things earthly ; things moral ; or things 
evangelical ; things sacred, or things profane ; things 
past, or things to come ; things foreign, or things at 
home ; things more essential, or things circumstantial : 
provided that all be done to our profit. 

Now did Faithful begin to wonder ; and stepping to 
Christian (for he walked all this while by himself), he 
said to him, but softly. What a brave companion have 
we got I Surely, this man will make a very excellent 
pilgrim. 

At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This 
man, with whom you are so taken, will beguile with 
this tongue of his, twenty of them that know him not. 

Faith. Do you know him, then ? 

Chr. Know him? Yes, better than he knows 
himself. 

Faith. Pray, what is he ? 

Chr. His name is Talkative : he dwelleth in our 
town. I wonder that you should be a stranger to him^ 
only I consider that our town is large. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 163 

Faith. Whose son is he ? A.nd whereabout doth 
h dwell? 

Chr. He is the son of one Say well. He dwelt in 
Piicting-Row ; and he is known to all that are ac- 
quttinted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating- 
Row ; and, notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but 
a soxTy fellow. 

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. 

Chr. That is to them that have not a thorough ac- 
quaintance with him, for he is best abroad ; near home 
he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a pretty 
man, brings to my mind what I have observed in the 
work of a painter, whose pictures show best at a dis- 
tance ; but very near, more unpleasing. 

Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest, 
because you smiled. 

Chr. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) 
in this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely. I 
will give you a further discovery of him. This man is 
for any company, and for any talk ; as he talketh now 
with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench ; 
and the more drink he hath in his crown, the more ot 
these things he hath in his mouth. Religion hath no 
place in his heart, or house, or conversation ; all he 
hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a 
noise therewith. 

Faith. Say you so ? Then am I in this man greatly 
deceived. 

Chr. Deceived ! you may be sure of it. Remember 
the proverb, " They say and do not ; " but " the kingdom 
of God is not in word but in power." (Matt. 23 : 3 ; 
1 Cor. 4 : 20.) He talketh of prayer, of repentance, of 
faith, and of the new birth ; but he knows but only to 
talk of them. I have been in his family, and have ob- 
gerved him both at home and abroad ; and I know 



lC4 THE PILGRIM*S PROGRESS. 

what I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty 
of religion as the white of an Q^g is of savor. There 
is there neither prayer, nor sign of repentance for sin ; 
yea, the brute, in his kind, serves God far better than 
he. He is the very stain, reproach, and shame of 
religion to all that knov" him (Rom. 2 : 24, 25) ; it can 
hardly have a good word in all that end of the town, 
where he dwells, through him. Thus say the common 
people that know him, " A saint abroad, and a devil at 
home." His poor family finds it so ; he is such a churl, 
such a railer at and so unreasonable with his servants, 
that they neither know how to do for or speak to him. 
Men that have any dealings with him say, " It is 
better to deal with a Turk than with him, for 
fairer dealings they shall have at their hands." This 
Talkative (if it be possible) will go beyond them, 
defraud, beguile, and overreach them. Besides, he 
brings up his sons to follow his steps ; and if he finds 
in any of them a foolish timorousness (for so he calls 
the first appearance of a tender conscience), he calls 
them fools and blockheads, and by no means will em- 
ploy them in much, or speak to their commendation 
before others. For my part, I am of opinion that he 
has, by his wicked life, caused many to stumble and 
fall ; and will be, if God prevents not, the ruin of many 
more. 

Faith. "Well, my brother, I am bound to believe 
/ou, not only because you say you know him, but also 
because, like a Christian, you make your reports of men. 
For I can not think that you speak these things of ill- 
will, but because it is even so as you say. 

Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might, 
perhaps, have thought of him as at the first you did , 
yea, had I received this report at their hands only that 
fire enemies to religion, I should have thought it had 



THE PILGRIM'S PROCEED. 165 

been a slander — a lot that often falls from bad men's 
mouths upon good men's names and professions. But 
all these things, yea, and a great many more as bad, 
of my owv knowledge, I can prove him guilty of. 
Besides. %: »>d men are ashamed of him; they can 
neither call him brother or friend ; the very naming 
of him among them makes them blush, if they knov 
him. 

Faith. Well, I see that sajdng and doing are two 
things, and hereafter I shall better observe this dis- 
tinction. 

Chr. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse 
as are the soul and the body ; for as the body without 
the soul is but a dead carcass, so saying^ if it be alone, 
is but a dead carcass also. The soul of religion is the 
practical part. " Pure religion and undefiled before 
God and the Father is this. To visit the fatherless and 
widows in their affliction, and to keep himself un- 
spotted from the world. "(James 1 : 27 ; see also versea 
2, 3, 24, 26.) This Talkative is not aware of ; he thinks 
that hearing and saying will make a good Christian ; 
and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but 
as the sowing of the seed; talk is not sufficient to 
prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And 
let us assure ourselves, that at the day of doom men 
shall be judged according to their fruits. (Matt. 13 : 23.) 
It will not be said then. Did you believe? but, Were 
you doers, or talkers only ? and accordingly shall they 
be judged. The end of the world is compared to our 
harvest (Matt. 13 : 30), and you know men at harvest 
regard nothing but fruit. Not that any thing can be 
accepted that is not of faith ; but I sp.ak this to show 
you how insignificant the profession of Talkative wili 
be at that day. 

Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by 



l66 THE PILGRIM*S PROGRESS. 

which he describeth the beast that is clean. (Levit. 11 •, 
Deut. 14.) He is such an one that parteth the hoo^ 
and cheweth the cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, 
or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the 
cud, but yet is unclean, because he parteth not the 
hoof. And this truly resembleth Talkative ; he cheweth 
the cud, he seeketh knowledge ; he cheweth upon the 
word, but he divideth not the hoof. He parteth not 
with the way of sinners ; but as the hare, he retaineth 
the foot of the dog or bear, and therefore he is un- 
clean. 

Chr. You have spoken for aught I know, the true 
gospel sense of these texts. And I will add anothei 
thing : Paul calleth some men, yea, and those grea< 
talkers too, "sounding brass, and tinkling cymbals" 
(1 Cor. 13 : 1, 3) ; that is, as he expounds them iij 
anotheif place, "things without life, giving sound." 
(1 Cor. 14 : 7.) Things without life ; that is, without 
the true faith and grace of the Gospel ; and, conse- 
quently, things that shall never be placed in the 
Kingdom of Heaven among those that are the chil- 
dren of life ; though their sound, by their talk, be as 11 
it were the tongue or voice of an angel. 

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at 
first, but I am as sick of it now. What shall we do te 
be rid of him ? 

Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you 
shall find that he will soon be sick of your company 
too, except God shall touch his heart, and turn it. 

Faith. What would you have me do ? 

Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious 
discourse about ^he power of religion ; and ask him 
plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will), 
whether this thing be set up in his heart, house* or 
Oonversatiou. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 167 

Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to 
Talkative, Come, what cheer ? How is it now ? 

Talk. Thank you, well : I thought we should have 
had a great deal of talk by this time. 

Faith. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now; and 
since you left it with me to state the question, let it 
be this ; How doth the saving grace of God discover 
itself when it is in the heart of man ? 

Talk. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about 
the power of things. Well, it is a very good question, 
and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my 
answer in brief, thus : First, where the grace of God is 
in the heart, it causeth there a great outcry against 
sin. Secondly — 

, Faith. Nay, hold; let us consider of one at once. 
I think you should rather say. It shows itself by in- 
clining the soul to abhor its sin. 

Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying 
out against the abhorring of sin ? 

Faith. Oh ! a great deal. A man may cry out 
against sin, of policy ; but he can not abhor it but by 
virtue of a goodly antipathy against it. I have heard 
many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who can yet 
abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conver- 
sation. (Gen. 39 ; 15.) Joseph's mistress cried out with 
a loud voice, as if she had been very chaste; but she 
would willing, notwithstanding that, have committee' 
uncleaness with him. Some cry out against sin, eveii 
as the mother cries out against her child in her lap, 
when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and then 
Calls to hugging and kissing it. 

Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. 

Faith. No, not I ; I am only for setting things right 
But what is the second thing whereby you would 
prove a discovery of a work of grace in the heart ? 



l6S THE F/LGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries. 

Faith. This sign should have been first : but, first 
or last, it is also false ; for knowledge, great knowledge, 
may be obtained in the mysteries of the Gospel, and 
yet no work of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have 
all knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so, conse- 
quently be no child of God. (1 Cor. 13 : 2.) When 
Christ said, "Do you know all these things?" and the 
disciples answered, " Yes,'' he added, " Blessed are ye, 
if ye do them." He doth not lay the blessing in the 
knowing of them, but in the doing of them. For 
there is a knowledge that is not attendsd with doing : 
'* He that knoweth his Master's will, and doeth it not." 
A man may know like an angel, and yet be no Christian : 
therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to know 
is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters ; but to 
do is that which pleaseth God. Not that the heart can 
be good without knowledge, for without that the heart 
is naught. There are, therefore, two sorts of knowl- 
edge, knowledge that resteth in the bare speculation 
of things, and knowledge that is accompanied with the 
grace of faith and love, which puts a man upon doing 
even the will of God from the heart : the first of these 
will serve the talker ; but without the other, the true 
Christian is not content. " Give me understanding, 
and I shall keep thy law ; yea, I shall observe it with 
my whole heart." (Psalm 119 : 34). 

Talk. You lie at the catch again : this is not for 
edification. 

Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign 
ow this work of grace disco vereth itself where it is. 

Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. 

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leavp 
to do it ? 

Talk. You may use your liberty. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. I^^ 

Faith. A work of grace in the soul disco vereth it- 
self, either to him that hath it or to standers-by. 

To him that hath it, thus : It gives him conviction 
of sin, especially the defilement of his nature, and the 
sin of unbelief, for the sake of which he is sure to be 
damned, if he findeth not me^'cy at God's hand, by 
faith in Jesus Christ. This sight and sense of things 
worketh in him sorrow and shame for sin. (Psalm 38 % 
18; Jer.31: 19; John 16 : 8; Rom. 7 : 24; Mark 16: 
16 ; Gal. 2 : 16 ; Rev. 1 : 6.) He findeth, moreover, re- 
vealed in him the Saviour of the world, and the abso- 
lute necessity of closing with him for life ; at the which 
he findeth hungerings and thirstings after him ; to 
which hungerings, &c., the promise is made. Now, ac- 
cording to the strength or weakness of his faith in his 
Saviour, so is his joy and peacCj so is his love to holi- 
ness, so are his desires to know him more, and also to 
serve him in this world. But though I say it dis- 
covereth itself thus into him, yet it is but seldom that 
he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace ; 
because his corruptions now, and his abused reason, 
make his mind to misjudge in this matter ; therefore 
in him that hath this work there is required a very 
sound judgment, before he can with steadiness con- 
clude that this is a work of grace. (John 16 : 9 ; Gal. 
2: 15, 16 ; Acts 4: 12 ; Matt. h\^\ Rev. 21 : 6.) 

To others it is thus discovered : 1. By an experi- 
mental confession of hi^ faith in Christ. 2. By a life 
answerable to that confession ; to wit, a life of holiness 
' — heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he hath a family), 
and by conversation-holiness in the world ; which in 
the general teacheth him inwardly to abhor his sin, 
and himself for that, in secret ; to suppress it in his 
family, and to promote holiness in the world : not by 
talk only, as a hvpocrite, or talkative person may do, 



xyo THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

but by a practical subjection in faith and love to tbe 
power of the word. (Job 42 : 5, 9 ; Psalm 50 : 23 ; Ezek. 
20 : 43 ; Matt. 5:8; John 14 : 15 ; Rom. 10 : 10 ; Ezek. 
86 : 25 ; Phil. 1 : 2T ; 3 : 17-20). And now, sir, as to 
this brief description of the work of grace, and also 
the discovery of it, if you have aught to object, object ; 
if not, then give me leave to propound to you a second 
question. 

Talk Nay, my part is not now to object, but to 
hear; let me, therefore, have your second question. 

Faith. It is this : Do you experience this first part 
of the description of it ; and doth your life and conver- 
sation testify the same? Or standeth your religion 
in word or tongue, and not in deed and truth? Pray, 
if you incline to answer me in this, say no more than 
you know the God above will say Amen to, and also 
nothing but what your conscience can justify you in ; 
for not he that commendeth himself is approved, but 
whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say I am 
thus and thus, when my conversation, and all my 
neighbors, tell me I lie, is great wickedness. 

Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but recover- 
ing himself, he thus replied : You come now to experi- 
ence, to conscience, and to God ; and to appeal to Him 
for justification of what is spoken. This kind of dis- 
course I did not expect ; nor am I disposed to give an 
answer to such questions, because I count not myself 
bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a 
catechiser ; and though you should so do, yet I may 
refuse to make you my judge. But I pray, will you 
tell me why you ask me such questions? 

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and be- 
cause I knew not that you had aught else but notion. 
Besides, to tell you the truth, I have heard of you that 
you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



171 



your conversation gives this your mouth-profession the 
lioo They say you are a spot among Christians, and 
that religion fareth the worse for your ungodly conver- 
sation; that some have already stumbled at your wicked 
ways, and that more are in danger of being destroyed 
thereby : your religion, and an ale-house, and covetous- 
ness and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, and 
vain company-keeping, &c., will stand together. The 
proverb is true of you which is said of a harlot, to wit, 
'* That she is a shame to all women : " so are you a 
shame to all professors. 

Talk. Since you are so ready to take up reports, 
and to judge so rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude 
you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to be 
discoursed with ; and so adieu. 

Then up came Christian, and said to his brother, I 
told you how it would happen ; your words and his 
lusts could not agree. He had rather leave your com- 
pany than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said* 
let him go ; the loss is no man's but his own. He has 
saved us the trouble of going from him ; for he con 
tinning (as I suppose he will do) as he is, would have 
been but a bl®t in our company : besides, the Apostle 
says, " From such withdraw thyself." 

Faith. But I am glad we had this little discourse 
with him ; it may happen that he will think of it again i 
however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear 
of his blood if he perisheth. 

ChRc You did well to talk so plainly to him as you 
did. There is but little of this faithful dealing with 
men nowa-days, and that makes religion to stink in the 
nostrils of so many as it doth ; for they are these talk- 
ative fools, whose religion is only in word, and who are 
debauched and vain in their conversation, that (being 
80 much admittei into the fellowship of the godly) da 



iy2 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the 
sincere. I wish that all men would deal with such as 
you have done then should they either be made more 
conformable to religion, or the company of saints would 
be too hot for them. 

Then did Faithful say, 

** How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes t 
How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
To drive down all before him ! But so soon 
As Faithful talks of heart- work, like the moon 
That's past the full, into the wane he goes ; 
And so will all but he that heart-work knows." 

Thus they went on, talMng of what they had seen 
by the way, and so made that way easy which would 
otherwise no doubt have been tedious to them, for now 
they went through a wilderness. 



THE SIXTH STAGE. 

Now when they were got almost quite out o£ this 
wilderness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and 
espied one cominp; after them, and he knew him. Oh ! 
said Faithful to his brother, who comes yonder ? Then 
Christian looked, and said, It is my good friend Evan- 
gelist. Aye, and my good friend too, said Faithful, 
for 'twas he that set me on the way to the gate. Now 
was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted 
them. 

Evan. Peace be with you, dearly beloved ; and 
peace be to your helpers. 

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist: the 
sight of thy countenance brings to my remembrance thy 
ancient kindness w.nd unwearied labors for my eternsu 
good. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, ly^ 

Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good 
Faithful, thy company, oh sweet Evangelist ; how de- 
sirable is it to us poor pilgrims ! 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared 
with you, my friends, since the time of our last part- 
ing? What have you met with, and how have you be« 
haved yourselves? 

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things 
that had happened to them in the way ; and how, and 
with what difficulty, they had arrived to that place. 

Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you hav3 
met with trials, but that you have been victors; and 
for that you have, notwithstanding many weaknesseti, 
continued in the way to this very day. 

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for 
mine own sake and yours : I have sowed, and you have 
reaped ; and the day is coming, when " both he that 
soweth, and they that reap, shall rejoice together " 
(John 4 : 36) ; that is, if you hold out : " for in du« 
iieason ye shall reap, if ye faint not." (Gal. 6 : 9.) The 
crown is before you, and it is an incorruptible one j 
" so run that ye may obtain it." (1 Cor. 9 : 24-27.) 
Some there be that set out for this crown, and after 
they have gone far for it, another comes in and takes 
it from them ; " hold that fast which thou hast, that no 
man take thy crown." (Rev. 3 : 11.) You are not yet 
out of the gunshot of the devil ; " you have not resisted 
unto blood, striving against sin." Let the kingdom be 
always before you, and believe steadfastly concerning 
the things that are invisible. Let nothing that is on 
this side the other world get within you. And, above 
all, look well to your own hearts and to the lusts there- 
of; for they are "deceitful above all things, and des- 
perately wicked." Set your faces like a flint ; you liav0 
all power in heavea and earth ou your side. 



jy4 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhorta^ 
tions ; but told him withal, that they would have him 
speak further to them for their help the rest of the 
way ; and the rather, for that they well knew that he 
was a prophet, and could tell them of things that might 
happen unto them, and also how they might resist and 
overcome them. To which request Faithful also con- 
sented. So Evangelist began as folio weth : 

Evan. My sons, you have heard in the word of the 
truth of the Gospel, that you must " through many 
tribulations enter into the Kingdom of Heaven ; " and 
again, that " in every city, bonds and afflictions abide 
you ; " and therefore you cannot expect that you should 
go long on your pilgrimage without them, in some sort 
or other. You have found something of the truth of 
these testimonies upon you already, and more will im- 
mediately follow : for now, as you see, you are almost 
out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon 
come into a town that you will by and by see before 
you ; and in that town you will be hardly beset with 
enemies, who still strain hard but they will kill you ; 
and be you sure that one or both of you must seal the 
testimony which you hold, with blood ; but " be you 
faithful unto death, and the King will give you a crown 
of life." He that shall die there, althcugh his death 
will be unnatural, and his pain, perhaps, great, he will 
yet have the better of his fellow ; not only because he 
will be arrived at the Celestial City soonest, but be- 
cause he will escape many miseries that the other will 
meet with in the rest of his journey. But when you 
are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled what I 
have here related, then remember your friend, and quit 
yourselves like men, and *' commit the keeping of your 
souls to God in well doing, as unto a faithf-il Creator." 
Then I saw ia my dream, that when tney were got 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. lyj 

l>ut of the wilderness, they presently saw a town be- 
fore them, and the name of that town is Vanity ; and at 
the town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is 
kept all the year long. It beareth the name of Vanity 
Fair, because the town where it is kept is ligliter than 
vanity (Psa. 62: 9); and also because all that i-^ there 
sold, or that cometh thither, is vanity ; as is the saying 
of the wise, '' All that cometh is vanity." (Eccl. 11 : 8 ; 
see also 1: 2-14; 2: 11-17; Isa. 40: 17.) 

This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of 
ancient standing. I will show you the original of it. 

Almost five thousand years ago there were pilgrims 
walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest per-* 
sons are : and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with 
their companions, perceiving by the path the pilgrims 
made, that their way to the city lay through this town 
of Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair ; a fair 
wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it 
should last all the year long. Therefore, at this fair are 
all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, places, 
honors, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, lusts, 
pleasures; and delights of all sorts, as harlots, wives, 
husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, bod- 
ies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and what 
not. 

And moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be 
seen jugglings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, 
and rogues, and that of every kind. 

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, 
murders, adulteries, false-swearers, and that of a blood- 
red color. 

And, as in other fairs of Jess moment, tnere are the 
several rows and streets under their proper names, 
where such and such wares are vended ; so here, like' 
^se, you have the proper places, rows, streets (namely. 



,^5 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

countriecj and kingdoms), where the wares of this fart 
are soonest to be found. Here is the Britain Row, the 
French Row, the Italian Row, the Spanish Row, the 
Grerraan Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be 
sold. But, as in other fairs, some one commodity is the 
chief of all the fair, so the ware of Rome and her mer- 
chandise is greatly promoted in this fair; onlj^ our 
English nation, with some others, have taken a dislike 
thereat. 

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies 
just through this town where this lusty fair is kept ; 
and he that would go to the city, and yet not go through 
this town, " must needs go out of the world." (1 Cor- 
4: 10.) The Prince of princes himself, when here, went 
through this town to his own country, and that upon a 
fair-day, too ; yea, and, as I think ic was Beelzebub, the 
chief lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of his 
vanities, yea, would have made him lord of the fair, 
would he but have done him reverence as. he went 
through the town. Yea, because he was such a person 
of honor, Beelzebub had him from street to street, and 
showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little 
time, that he might, if possible, allure that blessed One 
to cheapen and buy some of his vanities : but he had no 
mind to the merchandise, and therefore left the town, 
without laying out so much as one farthing upon these 
vanities. (Matt. 4: 8, 9 ; Luke 4: 5-7.) This fair, 
therefore, is an ancient thing, of long standing, and a 
Tery great fair. 

Now, these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through 
this fair. Well, so they did ; but behold, even as they 
entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were 
moved ; and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub 
^bout them, and that for several reasons : for, 

First, The Pil^ims were clothed with such kind of 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 177 

raiment as was diverse from the raimtiiit of any that 
traded in that fair. The people, therefore, of the fair, 
made a great gazing upon them : some said they were 
fools (1 Cor. 4: 9, 10) ; some, they were bedlams ; and 
some, they were outlandish men. 

Secondly, And as they wondered at their apparel, 
80 they did likewise at their speech ; for few could un- 
derstand what they said. They naturally spoke the 
language of Canaan ; but they that kept the fair were 
the men of this world : so that from one end of the fair 
to the other, they seemed barbarians each to the other. 
(1 Cor. 2 : 7, 8.) 

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the 
merchandisers was, that these pilgrims set very light by 
all their wares. They cared not so much as to look 
upon them ; and if they called upon them to buy, they 
would put their fingers in their ears, and cry, " Turn 
away mine eyes from beholding vanity," (Psa. 119 : 37), 
and look upward, signifying that their trade or traffic 
was in heaven. (Phil. 3 : 20, 21.) 

One chanced, mockingly, beholding the carriage of 
the men, to say unto them, " What will ye buy?" But 
they, looking gravely upon him, said, " We buy the 
truth." (Prov. 23 : 23.) At that there was an occasion 
taken to despise the men the more; some mocking, 
some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some 
calling upon others to smite them. At last, things came 
to a hubbub and great stir in the fair, insomuch that 
all order was confounded. Now was word presently 
brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly came 
down, and deputed some of his most trusty friends to 
take those men into examination about whom the fair 
was almost overturned. So the men were brought to 
examination ; and they that sat upon them asked them 
whence thev came, whither thej went, and what they 



,^8 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

did there in such an unusual garb. The men told them 
they were pilgrims and strangers in the world, and that 
they were goiug to their own country, which was the 
heavenly Jerusalem (Heb. 11 : 13-16) ; and that they 
had given no occasion to the men of the town, nor yet 
to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them, and to let 
them in their journey, except it was for that, when one 
asked them what they would buy, they said they would 
buy the truth. But they that were appointed to exam- 
ine them did not believe them to be any other than 
bedlams and mad, or else such as came to put all things 
into a confusion in the fair. Therefore they took them 
and beat them, and besmeared them with dirt, and then 
put them into the cage, that they might be made a 
spectacle to all the men of the fair. There, therefore, 
they lay for some time, and were made the objects of 
any man's sport, or malice, or revenge ; the great one 
of the fair laughing still at all that befell them. But 
the men being patient, and '* not rendering railing for 
railing, but contrariwise blessing," and giving good 
words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, some men 
in the fair, that were more observing and less prejudiced 
than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort 
for their continual abuses done by them to the men. 
They, therefore, in an angry manner let fly at them 
again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, and 
tellincc them that they seemed confederates, and should 
be made partakers of their misfortunes. The others re- 
plied that, for aught they could see, the men were quiet 
and sober, and intended nobody any harm; and that 
there were many that traded in their fair that were 
more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and pillory 
too, than were the men that they had abused. Thus, 
ftfter divers words had passed on both sides (the men 
behaviner themselves.aU^the. while very wisely and so* 



THE PILGRIM* S PROGRESS. X79 

berly before them), they fell to some blows among them- 
selves, and did harm one to another. Then were these 
two poor men brought before their examiners again, 
and were charged as being guilty of the late hubbub 
that had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, 
and hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains i^p 
and down the fair, for an example and terror to others, 
lest any should speak in their behalf, or join themselves 
unto them. But Christian and Faithful behaved them* 
selves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and 
shame that was cast upon them with so much meekness 
and patience, that it won to their side (though but few 
in comparison of the rest) several of the men in the 
fair. This put the other party yet into a greater rage, 
insomuch that they concluded the death of these two 
men. Wherefore they threatened that neither cage nor 
irons should serve their turn, but that they should die 
for the abuse they had done, and for deluding the men 
of the fair. 

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until 
further order should be taken with them. So they put 
them in and made their feet fast in the stocks. 

Here, also, they called again to mind what they had 
heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were 
the more confirmed in their way and sufferings by what 
he told them would happen to them. They also now 
comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, 
sven he should have the best of it : therefore each man 
secretly wished that he might have that preferment. 
But committing themselves to the all-wise disposal o^ 
Him that ruleth all things, with much content they 
abode in the condition in which they were, until they 
should be otherwise disposed of. 

Then a convenient time being appointed, they 
brought them forth to their *rial, in order to their con- 



>8o THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

/lemnation. When the time was come, they wert 
brought before their enemies and arraigned. The 
judge's name was Lord Hategood; their indictment 
was one and the same in substance, though somewhat 
varying in /orm ; the contents whereof was this : " That 
they were enemies to, and disturbers of, the trade ; that 
they had made commotions and divisions in the town, 
and had won a party to their own most dangerous opin- 
ions, in contempt of the law of their prince." 

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only 
set himself against that which had set itself against 
Him that is higher than the highest. And, said he, as 
for disturbance, I make none, being myself a man of 
peace : the parties that were won to us, were won by 
beholding our truth and innocence, and they are only 
turned from the worse to the better. And as to the 
king you talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of 
our Lord, I defy him and all bis angels. 

Then proclamation was made, that they that had 
aught to say for their lord the king against the prisoner 
at the bar, should forthwith appear, and give in their 
-evidence. So there came in three witnesses, to wit, 
Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank. They were then 
asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar ; and what 
they had to say for their lord the king against him. 
Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect : My 
^ord, I have known this man a long time, and will attest 
upon my oath, before this honorable bench, that he 
is — 

Judge. Hold ; give him his oath. 

So they sware him. Then he said. My lord, this 
man, notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of the 
vilest men in our country ; he neither regarded prince 
nor people, law nor custom, but doeth all that he can 
to Dossess all men with certain of his disloval notions. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, l8l 

which he in the general calls principles of faith and 
holiness. And in particular, I heard him once mysel f 
affirm, that Christianity and the customs of our town of 
Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not bo 
reconciled. By which saying, my lord, he doth at once 
not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the 
doing of them. 

Then did the judge say to him, Hast thou any more 
to say? 

Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I 
would not be tedious to the court. Yet if need be, 
when the other gentlemen have given in their evidence,, 
rather than anything shall be wanting that will dispatch 
him, I will enlarge my testimony against him. So ha 
was bid to stand by. 

Then they called Superstition, and bid him loolf; 
upon the prisoner. They also asked, what he couldK 
say for their lord the king against him. Then they 
sware him; so he began. 

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance witb 
this man, nor do I desire to have further knowledge oi: 
him. However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent; 
fellow, from some discourse that I had with him tho 
other day, in this town ; for then, talking with him, I 
heard him say, that our religion was naught, and such 
by which a man could by no means please God. Which 
saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows 
what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we still 
do worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally 
shall be damned : and this is that which I have to say. 

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he 
knew in the behalf of their lord the king against the 
prisoner at the bar. 

Pick. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I 
tave known of a Ions: time, and have heard him sneak 



l82 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

things that ought not to be spoken ; for he hath railed 
on our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken con* 
temptibly of his honorable friends, whose names are, 
the Lord Oldman, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord 
Luxurious, the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, my old Lord 
Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of our 
nobility : and he hath said, moreover, that if all meis 
were of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these 
noblemen should have any longer a being in this town. 
Besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my lord, 
who are now appointed to be his judge, calling you au 
ungodly villain, with many other such like vilifying 
terms, with which he hath bespattered most of the gen- 
try of our town. 

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge 
directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, 
Thou renegade, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard 
what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against 
thee? 

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own de- 
fence? 

Judge. Sirrah, thou deservest to live no ^onger, 
but to be slain immediately upon the place ; yet, that 
all men may see our gentleness towards thee, let us 
hear what thou, vile renegade, hast to say. 

Faith. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy 
hath spoken, I never said aught but this, that what 
rule, or laws, or custom, or people, were flat against the 
word of God, are diametrically opposite to Christianity. 
If I have said amiss in this, convince me of my error, 
and I am ready here before you to make my recanta- 
tion. 

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and 
his charge against me, I said only this, that in the wor« 
ship of God there i& x«auired a divine faith i but there 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 183 

can be no divine faith without a divine revelation of 
the will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the 
worship of God that is not agreeable to divine revela- 
tion, cannot be done but by a human faith ; which faith 
will not be profitable to eternal life. 

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoid?^ 
\ng terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like), that 
the prince ©f this town, with all the rabblement, his 
attendants, by this gentleman named, are more fit for 
a beinor in hell than in this town and countrv. And so 
the Lord have mercy upon me. 

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this 
while stood by to hear and observe). Gentlemen of the 
jury, you see this man about whom so great an uproar 
hath been made in this town ; you have also hear«i 
what these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against 
him ; also, you have heard his reply and confession: it 
lieth now in your breasts to hang him, or save his life; 
but yet I think meet to instruct you in our law. 

There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh thd 
Great, servant to our prince, that, lest those of a con- 
trary religion should multiply and grow too strong for 
him, their males should be thrown into the river. 
(Exod. 1 : 22.) There was also an act made in the 
days of Nebuchadnezzar the Great, another of his ser- 
vants, that whoever would not fall down and worship 
his golden image, should be thrown into a fiery furnace. 
(Dan. 3 : 6.) There was also an act made in the days 
of Darius, that whoso for some time called upon any 
god but him, should be cast into the lion's den. (Dan. 
6 : 7.) Now, the substance of these laws this rebel hath 
broken, not only in thought (which is not to be borne), 
but also in word and deed ; which must, therefore, needs 
be intolerable. 

For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a suo* 



lg4 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

position to prevent mischief, no crime being yet ap 
parent ; but here is a crime apparent. For the second 
and third, you see he disputeth against our religion ; and 
for the treason that he hath already confessed, he de- 
serveth to die the death. 

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr. 
Blindman, Mr. Nogood, Mr. Malice, Mr. Lovelust, Mr, 
Liveloose, Mr. Heady, Mr. Highmind, Mr. Enmity, Mr. 
Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hatelight, and Mr. Implacable ; 
who every one gave in his private verdict against him 
among themselves, and afterwards unanimously con- 
eluded to bring him in guilty before the judge. And first 
among themselves, Mr. Blindman, the foreman, said, I 
see clearly that tliis man is a heretic. Then said Mr. 
Nogood, Away with such a fellow from the earth. Ay«, 
«}aid Mr. Malice, for I hate the very looks of him. Thea 
said Mr. Lovelust, I could never endure him. Nor '% 
said Mr. Liveloose, for he would always be condemninj^ 
my way. Hang him, hang him, said Mr. Heady. A 
sorry scrub, said Mr. Highmind. My heart riseth 
against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is a rogue, said Mr. 
Liar. Hanging him is too good for him, said Mr. Cru- 
elty. Let us dispatch him out of the way, said Mr. 
Hatelight. Then said Mr. Implacable, Might I have 
all the world given me, I could not be S'econciled to 
jbim ; therefore let us forthwith bring hiia in guilty of 
death. 

And so they did ; therefore he was presently con- 
demned to be had from the place wh<jre he was to the 
place from whence he came, and there to be put to the 
most cruel death that could be invented. 

They therefore brought him out, to do with him ac- 
cording to their law ; and first they scourged him, then 
they buffeted him, then they lanced his flesh with 
knives \ after that, tii«y stoned him with stones, then 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. \%^ 

pricked him with their swords; and last of all, they 
burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful 
to his end. 

Now I saw, that there stood behind the multitude a 
chariot and a couple of horses waiting for Faithful, who 
(so soon as his adversaries had dispatched him) was 
taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through 
the clouds with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to 
the celestial gate. But as for Christian, he had some 
respite, and was remanded back to prison : so he re- 
jiiained there for a space. But He who overrules all 
things, having the power of their rage in his own hand, 
60 wrought it about, that Christian for that time escaped 
tbem, and went his way. 

And as he went, he sang, saying, 

** Well, Faithful, thou hast .faithfully profest 
Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest. 
When Faithless ones, with all their vain delights, 
Are crying out under their hellish plights : 
Sing, Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive ; 
For though they killed thee, thou art yet alive." 



THE SEVENTH STAGE. 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not 
forth alone ; for there was one whose name was Hope- 
ful (being so made by beholding of Christian and Faith- 
ful in their words and behavior, in their sufferings at 
the fair), who joined himself unto him, and entering 
into a brotherly covenant, told him that he would be 
his companion. Thus one died to bear testimony to 
the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to bf» « 



^ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

eompanion with Christian in his pilgrimage. Thij 
Hopeful also told Christian that there were many more 
of the men in the fair that would take their time and 
follow after. 

So I saw, that quickly after they were got out of 
•ihe fair, they overtook one that was going before them, 
<Whose name was Byends ; so they said to him, What 
countryman, sir ? and how far go you this way? He 
told them that he came from the town of Fairspeech, 
and that he was going to the Celestial City ; ^^ut told 
them not his name. 

From Fairspeech ? said Christian ; is there any good 
that lives there? (Prov. 26 : 25.) 

By. Yes, said Byends, I hope so. 

Chr. Pray, sir, what may I call you ? said Christian. 

By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me ; if you 
be going this way, I shall be glad of your company ; it 
BiOt, I must be content. 

Chr. This town of Fairspeech, said Christian, 1 
have heard of; and, as I remember, they say it's a 
wealthy place. 

By. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have 
\ery many rich kindred there. 

Chr. Pray, who are your kindred there, 5 " a maa 
may be so bold ? 

By. Almost the whole town ; but in particular my 
Lord Turnabout, my Lord Timeserver, my Lord Fair- 
speech, from whose ancestors that town first took its 
name ; also, Mr. Smoothman, Mr. Facingbothways, Mr. 
Anything; and the parson of our parish, Mr. Two- 
tongues, was my mother's own brother, by father's side ; 
and, tell you the truth, I am become a gentleman of 
good quality ; yet my great-grandfather was but a 
waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and I 
£ot most of mv estate by the same occuDation. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. l8y 

Chr. Are you a married man ? 

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, 
tJie daughter of a virtuous woman ; she was my Lady 
Feigning's daughter; therefore she came of a very 
honorable family, and is arrived to such a pitch of 
breeding that she knows how to carry it to all, even to 
prince and peasant. 'Tis true, we somewhat differ in 
religion from those of the stricter sort, yet but in two 
small points; First, we never strive against wind and 
tide. Secondly, we are always most zealous when re- 
ligion goes in his silver slippers ; we love much to walk 
with him in the street, if the sun shines and the people 
applaud him. 

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow 
Hopeful, saying. It runs in my mind that this is one 
Byends, of Fairspeech ; and if it be he, we have aa 
very a knave in our company as dwelleth in all these 
parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask him; methinks he 
should not be ashamed of his name. So Christian 
came up with him again, and said. Sir, you talk as if 
you knew something more than all the world doth ; 
and, if I take not my mark amiss, I deem I have half a 
guess of you. Is not your name Mr. Byends, of Faii> 
speech ? 

By. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nick* 
name that is given me by some that cannot abide me, 
and I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as other 
good men have borne theirs before me. 

Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men to 
call you by this name ? 

By. Never, never ! The worst that ever I did to 
give them an occasion to give me this name was, that I 
had always the luck to jump in my judgment with the 
present way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance 
was to sret thereby.* but ii tikiuiis are thus cast upon ma 



l88 THE PILGRIMS PROGRESS, 

let me count them a blessing ; but let not the malicioui 
load me therefore with reproach. 

Chr. I thought, indeed, that you were the man 
that I heard of; and to tell you what I think, I fear 
this name belongs to you more properly than you are 
willing we should think it doth. 

By. Well if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it \ 
foil shall find me a fair company-keeper, if you will still 
admit me your associate. 

Chr. If you will go with us, you must go against 
wind and tide ; the which, I perceive, is against your 
opinion : you must also own Religion in his rags, r$ 
well as when in his silver slippers; and stand by hia> 
too, when bound in irons, as well as when he walket'i 
the streets with applause. 

By. You must not impose, nor lord it over my 
faith ; leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 

Chr. Not a step farther, unless you will do, in what 
I propound, as we. 

Then said Byends, I shall never desert my old pritf- 
ciples, since they are harmless and profitable. If I ma f 
lot go with you, I must do as I did before you overtoo fe 
me, even go by myself, until some overtake me that 
will be glad of my company. 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hope- 
ful forsook him, and kept their distance before hin"v; 
but one of them, looking back, saw three men follow- 
ing Mr. Byends ; and, behold, as they came up with him, 
he made them a very low congee ; and they also gave 
him a compliment. The men's names were, Mr. Hold- 
theworld, Mr. Moneylove, and Mr. Saveall, men that 
Mr. Byends had formerly been acquainted with ; for in 
their minority they were schoolfellows, and were taught 
by one Mr. Gripeman, a schoolmaster in Lovegain» 
which is a market-town in the county of Covetinsr, ia 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, \%^ 

the North. This schoolmaster taught them the art of 
getting, either by violence, cozenage, flattering, lying, 
or by putting on a guise of religion ; and these four 
gentlemen had attained much of the art of their master, 
so that they could each of them have kept such a school 
themselves. 

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each 
other, Mr. Moneylove said to Mr. Byends, Who are they 
upon the road before us ? For Christian and Hopeful 
were yet within view. 

By. They are a couple of far-countrymen, that, after 
their mode, are i!;oing on pilgrimage. 

Money. Alas ! why did they not stay, that we might 
have had their good company? for they, and we, and 
you, sir, I hope, are all going on pilgrimage. 

By. We are so, indeed ; but the men before us are 
so rigid, and love so much their own notions, and do 
a^so so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let a 
n-an be never so godly, yet if he jumps not with them 
ir* all things, they thrust him quite out of their com- 
pany. 

Save. That is bad ; but we read of some that are 
rfghteous over much, and such men's rigidness prevails 
with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. 
But I pray, what, and how many, were the things 
wherein you differed ? 

By. Why they, after their headstrong manner, con- 
clude that it is their duty to rush on their journey all 
weathers ; and I am for waiting for wind and tide. 
They are for hazarding all for God at a clap ; and I am 
for taking all advantages to secure my life and estate. 
They are for holding their notions, though all other 
men be against them ; but I am for religion in what and 
so far as the times and my safety will bear it- They 
are for relisfion when in rags and contempt ; but I am 



199 I'ffE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

for him when he walks in his silver slippers, in the sutt 
shine, and with applause. 

HoLDTHEWORLD. Aye, and hold you there still, 
good Mr. Byends ; for, for my part, I can count him but 
a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what he has, 
shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as ser^ 
pents. It is best to make hay while the sun shines 
You see how the bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs 
her only when she can have profit with pleasure. God 
sends sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine : if they 
be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be con- 
tent to take fair weather along with us. For my part, 
I like that relisfion best that will stand with the secur- 
ity of God's good blessings unto us ; for who can imag- 
ine, that is ruled by his reason, since God has bestowed 
upon us the good things of this life, but that he would 
have us keep them for his sake ? Abraham and Solo- 
mon grew rich in religion ; and Job says, that a good 
man shall lay up gold as dust ; but he must not be 
such as the men before us, if they be as you have de- 
scribed them. 

Save. I think that we are all agreed in this matter; 
and therefore there needs no more words about it. 

Money. No, there needs no nK)re words about this 
matter, indeed; for he that believes neither Scripture 
nor reason (and you see we have both on our side) 
3ieither knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety. 

By. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on 
pilgrimage ; and, for our better diversion from things 
that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this 
question : 

Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, &c., 
should have an advantage lie before him to get the good 
blessings of this life, yet so as that he can by no means 
come by them, excepttjjQ^apDearance at least, he bo 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. j^l 

comes extraordinary zealous in some points of religion 
that he meddled not with before ; may he not use this 
means to attain his end, and yet be a right honest man ? 
Money. I see at the bottom of your question ; and 
with these gentlemen's good leave, I will endeavor to 
ishape you an answer. And first, to speak to your ques- 
tion as it concerneth a minister himself: suppose a min- 
ister, a worthy man, possessed but of a very small bene» 
tice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat and plump 
by far ; he has also now an opportunity of getting it, 
yet so as by being more studious, by preaching more 
frequently and zealously, and because the temper of the 
people requires it, by altering of some of his principles ; 
for my part, I see no reason why a man may not do 
this, provided he has a call, aye, and mere a great deal 
besides, and yet be an honest man. For why? 

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful (thia 
cannot be contradicted), since it is set before him by 
Providence ; so then he may get it if he can, making no 
question for conscience sake. 

2. Besides, his desire after that benefice makes him 
more studious, a more zealous preacher, &c., and so 
makes him a better man ; yea, makes him better im- 
prove his parts, which is according to the mind of God. 

3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his 
people, by deserting, to serve them, some of his prin- 
ciples, this argueth, 1. That he is of a self-denying 
temper. 2. Of a sweet and winning deportment. And, 
3. So more fit for the mnisterial function. 

4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a 
small for a great, should not, for so doing, be judged as 
covetous ; but rather, since he is improved in his parts 
and industry thereby, be counted as one that pursues 
his call, and the opportunity put into his hand to do 
cood. 



1^2 ^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

And now to the second part of the question, which 
concerns the tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such 
an one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by 
becoming religious he may mend his market, perhaps 
get a rich wife, or more and far better customers to his 
shop ; for my part, I see no reason but this may be law* 
fully done. For why ? 

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means 
soever a man becomes so. 

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more 
custom to my shop. 

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming re" 
ligious, gets that which is good of them that are good, 
by becoming good himself ; so then here is a good wife, 
and good customers, and good gain, and all these by 
becoming religious, which is good : therefore, to become 
religious to get all these is a good and profitable design. 

This answer, thus made by Mr. Moneylove to Mr. 
Byends' question, was highly applauded by them all; 
wherefore they concluded, upon the whole, that it was 
most wholesome and advantageous. And because, as 
they thought, no man was able to contradict it; and 
because Christian and Hopeful were yet within call* 
they jointly agreed to assault them with the question 
as soon as they overtook them ; and the rather, because 
they had opposed Mr. Byends before. So they called 
after them, and they stopped and stood still till they 
^ame up to them ; but they concluded, as they went, 
that not Mr. Byends, but old Mr. Holdthe world should 
propound the question to them, because, as they sup- 
posed, their answer to him would be without the re- 
mainder of that heat that was kindled betwixt Mr. By* 
ends and them at their parting a little before. 

So they came up to each other, and after a short 
salutation, Mr. Hoidthe world DiODOunded the Question 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. ^^. 

lo Christian and his fellow, and then bid them to answer 
it if they could. 

Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may 
answer ten thousand such questions. For if it be un- 
lawful to follow Christ for loaves, as it is (John 6 : 26), 
how much more abominable is it to make of him and 
religion a stalking-horse to get and enjoy the world' 
Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites^ 
devils, and witches, that are of this opinion. 

1. Heathens : for when Hamor and Shechem had a 
mind to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that 
there was no way to come at them but by being circum- 
cised, they said to their companions, If every male of us 
be circumcised, as they are circumcised, shall not their 
cattle, and their substance, and every beast of theirs ])e 
ours? Their daughters and their cattle were thit 
which they sought to obtain, and their religion tJte 
stalking-horse they made use of to come at them. Re&,d 
the whole story (Gen. 34: 20-24). 

2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this re- 
ligion: long prayers were their pretence, but to get 
widows' houses was their intent ; and greater damna- 
tion was from God their judgment. (Luke 20 : 46, 47.) 

3. Judas the devil was also of this religion \ he was 
religious for the bag, that he might be possessed of 
what was put therein ; but he was lost, cast away, and 
the very son of perdition. 

4. Simon the wizard was of this religion too ; for he 
would have had the Holy Ghost, that he might have 
got money therewith : and his sentence from Peter's 
mouth was according. (Acts 8 : 19-22.) 

5. Neither will it out of my mind, but that that 
man who takes up religion for the world, will throw 
away religion for the world ; for so surely as Judas de- 
fii^^ned the world in becoming religious, so surely did 



1^4 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

he also sell religion and his Master for the same. Td 
answer the question, therefore, affirmatively, as I per* 
ceive you have done, and to accept of, as authentic 
such answer is heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish g 
and your reward will be according to your works. 

Then they stood staring one upon another, but had 
not wherewith to answer Christian. Hopeful also ap- 
proved of the soundness of Christian's answer , so there 
was a great silence among them. Mr. Byends and his 
company also staggered and kept behind, that Christian 
and Hopeful might outgo them. Then said Christian 
to his fellow, If these men can not stand before the sen- 
tence of men, what will they do with the sentence of 
God ? And if they are mute when dealt with by vessels 
of clay, what will they do when they shall be rebuked 
by the flames of a devouring fire ? 

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, 
and went till they came at a delicate plain, called Ease, 
where they went with much content ; but that plain 
was but narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now 
at the farther side of that plain was a little hill, called 
Lucre, and in that hill a silver-mine, which some of 
them that had formerly gone that way, because of the 
rarity of it, had turned aside to see ; but going too near 
the brim of the pit, the ground, being deceitful under 
them, broke, and they were slain : some also had been 
maimed there, and could not, to their dying day, be 
their own men again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, 
over against the silver-mine, stood Demas (gentleman- 
like) to call passengers to come and see ; who said to 
Christian and his fellow, Ho I turn aside hither, and I 
will show you a thing. 

Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out ol 
the way to seeilit/' 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 1^5 

Demas. Here is a silver-mine, and some digging in 
It for treasure : if you will come, with a little p:^insyou 
may richly provide for yourselves. 

Hope. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see. 

Chr. Not I, said Christian : I have heard of this 
place before now^ and how many have there been slain; 
and besides, that treasure is a snare to those that seek 
it, for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage. 

Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the 
place dangerous ? Hath it not hindered many in their 
pilgrimage ? (Hosea 9:6.) 

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that 
are careless ; but withal he bluslied as he spake. 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not 
stir a step, but still keep on our way. 

Hope. I will warrant you, when Byends comes up, 
if he hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in 
thitlier to see. 

Chr. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him 
that way, and a hundred to one but he dies there. 

Demas. Then Demas called again, saying, But will 
you not come over and see ? 

Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, 
Demas, thou art an enemy to the right ways of the 
Lord of this way, and hast been already condemned for 
thine own turning aside, by one of his Majesty's judges 
(2 Tim. 4: 10); and why seekest thou to bring us into 
the like condemnation? Besides, if we at all turn 
aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear thereof, 
and will there put us to shame, where we would stand 
with boldness before him. 

Demas cried again, that he also was one of their fra» 
ternity ; and that if they wouL^ tarry a little, he also 
himself would walk with them. 



^g^ THE FiLGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What is thy name? la 
it not the same by which I have called thee? 

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas ; I am the son of 
Abraham. 

Chr. I know you: Gehazi was your great-grand- 
father, and Judas your father, and you have trod ia 
iheir steps ; it is but a devilish prank that thou usest: 
thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest 
no better reward. (2 Kings, 5 : 20-27 ; Matt. 26 : 14, 15 ; 
27: 3-5.) Assure thyself, that when we come to the 
Xing, we will tell him of this thy behavior. Thus they 
went their way. 

By this time Byends and his companions were come 
again within sight, and they at the first beck went over 
to Demas. Now, whether they fell into the pit by 
looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went 
down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the 
bottom by the damps that commonly arise, of these 
things I am not certain ; but this I observed, that they 
>rere never seen again in the way. Then sang Christiant 

" Byends and silver Demas both agree ; 
One calls, the other runs, that he may be 
A sharer in his lucre : so these two 
Take up in this world, and no farther go." 

Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain< 
the pilgrims came to a place where stood an old monu« 
ment, hard by the highway-side, at the sight of which 
they were both concerned, because of the strangeness 
of the form thereof ; for it seemed to them as if it had 
been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar. 
Here, therefore, they stood looking and looking upou 
it, but could not for a time tell what they should make 
thereof. At last Hopeful espied, written above unou 
the head thereoL a writine^ in aa unusual hand: but h« 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 19^ 

being no scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned) 
to see if he could pick out the meaning : so he came, 
and after a little laying of the letters together, he found 
the same to be this, '' Remember Lot's wife.'* So he 
read it to his fellow ; after which they both concluded 
that that was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife 
was turned, for her looking back with a covetous heart 
when she was going from Sodom for safety. (Gen. 19: 
26.) Which sudden and amazing sight gave them occa- 
sion for this discourse. 

Chr. Ah, my brother, this is a seasonable sight : it 
came opportunely to us after the in vita lion which 
Demas gave us to come over to view the hill Lucre ; 
and had we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou 
wast inclined to do, my brother, we had, for aught I 
know, been made, like this woman, a spectacle for thojie 
that shall come after to behold. 

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am 
made to wonder that I am not now as Lot's wife ; for 
wherein was the difference betwixt her sin and mine t 
She only looked back, and I had a desire to go see. 
Let grace be adored ; and let me be ashamed that ever 
such a thing should be in mine heart. 

Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for 
our help for time to come. This woman escaped one 
judgment, for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom ; 
yet she was destroyed by another. As we see, she is 
turned into a pillar of salt. 

Hope. True, and she may be to us both caution and 
example : caution, that we should shun her sin ; or a 
sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall not 
be prevented by this caution. So Korah, Dathan, and 
Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty men that per- 
ished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to 
Others to beware* (Numb. 16 j 31, 32 i 26: 9. 10.> B"^ 



ig8 THE PILUKiM'S PROGRESS. 

above all, T muse at one thing, to wit, how Demas and 
his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for 
that treasure, which this woman, but for looking behind 
her after (for we read not that she stepped one foot out 
of the way), was turned into a pillar of salt ; especially 
since the judgment which overtook her did make her an 
example, within sight of where they are ; for they can- 
not choose but see her, did they but lift up their eyes. 

Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth 
that their hearts are grown desperate in the case ; and 
I cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly, as t(> 
them that pick pockets in the presence of the jud|je, or 
that will cut purses under the gallows. It is said of 
the men of Sodom, that they were "sinners exceed- 
ingly," because they were sinners, " before the Lord," 
that is, in His eyesight, and notwithstanding the kind- 
nesses that He had shown them ; for the land of Sodom 
was now like the garden of Eden heretofore. (Gen. 13 j 
10-13.) This, therefore, provoked Him the more to 
jealousy, and made their plague as hot as the fire of tho 
Lord out of heaven could make it. And it is mosft 
rationally to be concluded, that such, even such as thesw 
are, that shall sin in the sight, yea, and that too in de- 
spite of such examples that are set continually before 
them, to caution them to the contrary, must be par- 
takers of severest judgments. 

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth; but 
what a mercy is it that neither thou, but especially T, 
am not made myself this examp^ * This ministereth 
occasion to us to thank God, to ^ear before Him, and 
always to remember Lot's wife. 

I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant 
river, which David the king called " the river of God; " 
but John, "the river of the water of life." (Psalm 65: 
9; Rev. ^2: 1, 2« Ezek. 47* 1-9.^ J^ow their way lay 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. i^q 

just upon the bank of this river : here, therefore, Chris- 
tian and his companion walked with great delight ; they 
drank also of the water of the river, which was pleas- 
ant and enlivening to their weary spirits. Besides, on 
the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees 
with all manner of fruit ; and the leaves they ate to 
prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to 
those that heat their blood by travel. On either side 
of the river was also a meadow, curiously beautified 
with lilies ; and it was green all the year long. In this 
meadow they lay down and slept, for here they might 
lie down safely. (Psalm 23: 2; Tsa. 14: 30.) When 
they awoke they gathered again of the fruits of tho 
trees, and drank again of the water of the river, and 
then lay down again to sleep. Thus they did several 
days and nights. Then they sang, 

** Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide, 
To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side. 
The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell, 
Yield dainties for them ; and he who can tell 
>yhat pleasant fruit, yea, leaves these trees do yieldi 
Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field." 

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were 
not as yet at their journey's end), they ate, and drank, 
and departed. 

Now T beheld in my dream, that they had not jour* 
neyed far, but the river and the way for a time parted, 
at which they were not a little sorry ; yet they durst 
not go out of the way. Now the way from the river 
was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their 
travels ; so the souls of the pilgrims were much dis* 
couraged because of the way. (Numb. 21 : 4.) Where- 
fore, still as they went on, they wished for a better 
way. Now, a little before them, there was on the left 
hand of the road a meadow* and a stile to ffo over mtr» 



200 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

it, and that meadow 7s called Bypath meadow. Thea 
said Christian to his fellow, If this meadow lieth along 
by our wayside, let's go over into it. Then he went 
to the stile to see ; and behold, a path lay along by the 
way on the other side of the fence. It is according 
to my wish, said Christian ; here is the easiest going ; 
come, good Hopeful, and let us go over. 

Hope. But how if this path should lead us out of the 
way? 

That is not likely, said the other. Look, doth it 
not go along by the wayside ? So Hopeful, being per- 
suaded by his fellow, went after him over the stile. 
"When they were gone over, and were got into the 
path, they found it very easy for their feet ; and withal, 
they, looking before them, espied a man walking as 
they did, and his name was Vain-Confidence: so they 
called after him, and asked him whither that way led. 
He said. To the Celestial Gate. Look, said Christian, did 
I not tell you so ? By this you may see we are right. 
So they followed, and he went before them. But be* 
hold, the night came on, and it grew very dark ; so they 
that were behind lost sight of him that went before. 

He, therefore, that went before (Yain-Confidence 
by name), not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep 
pit, which was on purpose there made, by the prince of 
those grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools withal, and 
g^as dashed in pieces with his fall. (Isa. 9 : 16.) 

Now, Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So 
they called to know the matter, but there was none to^ 
answer, only they heard a groaning. Then said Hope- 
ful. Where are we now? Then was his fellow silent, 
as mistrusting that he had led him out of the way.* 
and now it began to rain, and thunder, and lighten, iu 
% most dreadful manner^ and the water rose amain. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 20t 

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh, that 
I had kept on my way ! 

Chr. Who could have thought that this path should 
have led us out of the way ? 

Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and there* 
fore gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoken 
plainer, but that you are older than I. 

Chr. Good brother, be not offended : I am sorry I 
liave brought thee out of the way, and that I have put 
tliee into such imminent danger. Pray, my brother^ 
forgive me ; I did not do it of an evil intent. 

Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ; 
fcnd believe, too, that this shall be for our good. 

Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother : 
imt we must not stand here ; let us try to go back again. 

Hope. But, good brother, let me go before. 

Chr. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there 
?>e any danger, I may be first therein, because by my 
jaeans we are both gone out of the way. 

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first, foi 
your mind being troubled may lead you out of the way 
again. Then for their encouragement they heard the 
T oice of one saying, *' Let thine heart be toward the 
highway, even the way that thou wentest: turn again." 
( Jer. 31 : 21.) But by this time the waters were 
greatly risen, by which the way of going back was very 
dangerous. (Then I thought that it is easier going out 
jf the way when we are in, than going in when we are 
out.) Yet they adventured to go back ; but it was so 
dark, and the flood was so high, that in their going 
back they had like to have been drowned nine or tea 
times. 

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get 
again to the stile that night. Wherefore at last, light 
ing under a little shelter, they sat down there till the 



f 02 THE PILGRIM* S PROGRESS. 

day brake; but, beiDg weary, they fell asleep. Kotv 
there was, not far from the place where they lay, a 
castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was 
Giant Despair, and it was in his grounds they now were 
sleeping ; wherefore he, getting up in the morning early, 
and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian 
and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim 
and surly voice he bid them awake, and asked them 
whence they were, and what they did in his grounds. J 
They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost ^ 
their way. Then said the giant. You have this night tresc 
passed on me by trampling in and lying on my grounds, 
and therefore you must go along with me. So they were 
forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They 
had also but little to say, for they knew themselves in a 
fault. The giant, therefore, drove them before him, and 
put them into his castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty 
and stinking to the spirits of these two men. Here, then, 
they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday nighty 
without one bit of bread or drop of drink, or light, or 
any to ask how they did ; they were, therefore, here 
in evil case, and were far from friends and acquaintance. 
(Psa. 88 : 18.) ]^ow, in this place. Christian had double 
sorrow, because it was through his unadvised counsel 
that they were brought into this distress. 

]^ow Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was 
Diffidence : so, when he was gone to bed, he told his 
wife what he had done, to wit, that he had taken a . 
couple of prisoners, and cast them into his dungeon for i. 
trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her, also? 
what he had best do further with them. So she asked 
him what they were, whence they came, and whither 
they were bound; and he told her. Then she coun- 
selled him, that, when he arose in the morning, he 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 203 

should beat them without mercy. So when he arose, 
he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and goes 
down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to 
rating of them as if they were dogs, although they gavo 
him never a word of distaste. Then he fell upon them, 
and beat them fearfully, in such sort that they were not 
able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor 
This done, he withdraws and leaves them there to con 
dole their misery, and to mourn under their distress: 
so all that day they spent their time in nothing but 
sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night, she, 
talking with her husband further about them, and un- 
derstanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to 
counsel them to make away with themselves. So, when 
morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner, 
as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with the 
stripes that he had given them the day before, he told 
them, that since they were never like to come out of 
that place, their only way would be forthwith to make 
an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison, 
for why, said he, should you choose to live, seeing it is 
attended with so much bitterness ? But they desired 
him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon 
them, and rushing to them, had doubtless made an end 
of them himself, but that he fell into one of his fits 
(for he sometimes in sunshiny weather fell into fits), 
and lost for a time the use of his hands ; wherefore h« 
withdrew, and left thom, as before, to consider what tc 
do. Then did the prisoners consult between themselves 
whether it was best to take his counsel or no; and thua 
they began to discourse. 

Chr. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? 
The life that we now live is miserable. For my partv 
I know not whether it is best to live thus, or to die ou» 
of hand. Mv soul chooseth stransflins: rather than lifdb 



J04 "^^^ MIGRIM'::! i^ROGRESS, 

and tfic ^^^vt is more easy for me than this dungeon 
(Job 7 ■ lo.) Shall we be ruled by the giant ? 

HoPjii Indeed cur present condition is dreadful, 
and deatii would be far more welcome to me than thus 
forever to abide; but yet, let us consider^ the Lord of 
the country to which we are going hath said, ^' Thou 
shalt do no murder," no, not to another man's person ; 
much more, then, are we forbidden to take his counsel 
to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills another, can 
but commit murder upon his body; but for one to kill 
himself, is to kill body and soul at once. And, more- 
over, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grava; 
but hast thou forgotten the hell whither for certain the 
murderers go? for "no murderer hath eternal life," 
&c. And let us consider again, that all the law is mit 
in the hand of Giant Despair: others, so far as I can 
understand, have been taken by him as well as we, aud 
yet have escaped out of his hands. Who knows but 
that God, who made the world, may cause that Giant 
^Jespair may die ; or that, at some time or other, }»e 
niay forget to lock us in ; or that he may, in a short 
iime, have another of his fits before us, and may lose the 
use of his limbs ? And if ever that should come to 
pass again, for my part, I am resolved to pluck up the 
heart of a man, and to try my utmost to get from under 
his hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it be- 
fore. But, however, my brother, let us be patient, and 
endure a while : the time may come that may give us a 
happy release ; but let us not be our own murderers. 
With these words Hopeful at present did moderate the 
mind of his brother; so they continued together in the 
dark that day, in their sad and doleful condition. 

Well, towards evening the giant goes down into the 
dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his 
counsel But, when lie ^i^ame there he found the;** 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 20$ 

alive : and, truly, alive was all ; for now, what for want 
of bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they 
received when he beat them, they could do little but 
breathe. But, I say, he found them alive ; at which he 
fell into a grievous rage, and told them, that, seeing 
they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with 
them than if they had never been born. 

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that 
Christian fell into a swoon ; but, coming a little to 
himself again, they renewed their discourse about the 
giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best take it! 
or no. Now Christian again seemed for doing it ; but 
Hopeful made his second reply, as followeth : — 

Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not 
how valiant thou hast been heretofore ? Apollyon 
could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, 
or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death 
What hardship, terror, and amazement, hast thou al- 
ready gone through ; and art thou now nothing bu^ 
fears ? Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, 
a far weaker man by nature than thou art. Also, thia 
giant hath wounded me as well as thee, and hath also 
cat off the bread and water from my mouth, and with 
thee I mourn without the light. But, let us exercise a 
little more patience. Remember how thou playedst the 
man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the 
chain nor cage, nor yet of bloody death ; wherefore, 
let us (at least to avoid the shame that it becomes not 
a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience aa 
well as we can. 

Now, night being come again, and the giant and his 
wife being in bed, she asked him concerning the pris« 
oners, and if they had taken his counsel : to which he 
replied, They are sturdy rogues ; they choose rather to 
bear all hardships than to make away with themselves. 



2o6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

Then said she, Take them into the castle-yard to-nioi» 
row, and show them the bones and skulls of those that 
thou hast already despatched, and make them believe, 
ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them ia 
pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them. 

So, when the morning was come, the giant goes to 
them again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and 
shows them as his wife had bidden him. These, said 
he, were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed 
on my grounds, as you have done ; and, when I thought 
fit, I tore them in pieces ; and so within ten days I will 
do you. Go, get you down to your den again. And 
with that he beat them all the way thither. They lay^ 
therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as 
before. Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. 
Diffidence, and her husband the giant was got to bed, 
they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners ; 
and, withal, the old giant wondered that he could 
neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. 
And with that his wife replied, I fear, said she, that 
they live in hopes that some will come to relieve them ; 
or that they have picklocks about them, by the means 
of which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my 
dear ? said the giant. I will therefore search them ift 
the morning. 

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to 
pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day. 

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, ag 
one half amazed, brake out into this passionate speech: 
What a fool, quoth he, am I, th<us to lie in a stinking 
dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty ! I have 
a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am per- 
suaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. Then said 
Hopeful, That is good new« •- good brother, pluck it 
out of thy bosom, and try, 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, tOf 

llien Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began 
to try at the dungeon-door, whose bolt, as he turned 
the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, 
and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then ha 
went to the outward door that leads into the castle, 
•"ard, and with his key opened that door also. After 
that he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened 
too ; but that lock went desperately hard, yet the key 
did open it. They then thrust open the gate to make 
their escape with speed ; but that gate, as it opened, 
made such a creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who 
hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to 
fail ; for his fits took him again, so that he could by no 
means go after them. Then they went on, and came 
to the King's highway, and so were safe, because they 
were out of his jurisdiction. 

Now, when they were gone over the stile, they be- 
gan to contrive with themselves what they should do 
at that stile to prevent those that should come after 
from falling into the hands of Giant Despair. So they 
consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upoa 
the side thereof this sentence : " Over this stile is the 
way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant De- 
ispair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, 
and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims." Many there- 
fore, that followed after, read what was written, aad 
escaped the danger. This done, they sang as follows 2-— 

" Out of the way we went, and then we found 
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground : 
And let them that come after have a care, 
Lest heedlessness makes them as we to fare ; 
Lest they, for trespassing, his prisoners are, 
Whotse castle's Doub^^^ing, and whose name'j Despair ' 



20g THE PILGRLM'S PROGRESS. 



THE EIGHTH STAGE. 

They went then till they came to the Deiectaole 
Mountains, which mountains belong to the Lord of 
that hill of which we have spoken before. So they 
went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens and 
orchards, the vineyards and fountains of water ; where 
also they drank and washed themselves, and did freely 
eat of the vineyards. Now, there were on the tops of 
these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, and 
they stood by the highway-side. The pilgrims, there- 
fore, went to them, and leaning upon their staffs (as is 
common with weary pilgrims when they stand to talk 
with any by the way), they asked. Whose Delectable 
Mountains are these ; and whose be the sheep that feed 
upon them ? 

Shep. These mountains are Emmanuel's land, and 
Valley are within sight of his city ; and the sheep also 
ai e his, and he laid down his life for them. (John 10 : 

n, 15.) 

Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City? 

Shep. You are just in your way. 

Chr. How far is it thither ? 

Shep. Too far for any but those who shall get 
thither indeed. 

Chr. Is the way safe or dangerous? 

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be sale -, but 
transgressors shall fall therein. (Hos. 14 : 9.) 

Chr. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims 
that are weary and faint in the way ? 

SfiiiP. The Lord of these mountains hath given us 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 209 

a charge not to be forgetful to entertain strangers (Heb. 
13 : 2) ; therefore the good of the place is before you. 

I saw also in my dream, that when the shepherds 
perceived that they were wayfaring men, they also put 
questions to them (to which they made answer as in 
other places), as. Whence came you? and, How got you 
into the way ? and, By what means have j'ou so perse* 
vered therein ? for but few of them that begin to come 
hither, do show their face on these mountains. But 
when the shepherds heard their answers, being pleased 
therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and 
said, Welcome to the Delectable Mountains. 

The shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, 
Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the 
hand, and had them to their tents, and made them 
partake of what was ready at present. They said, 
moreover. We would that you should stay here a while, 
to be acquainted with us, and yet more to solace your- 
selves with the good of these Delectable Mountains. 
Then they told them that they were content to stay. 
So they went to their rest that night, because it was 
very late. 

Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the 
shepherds called up Christian and Hopeful to walk 
with them upon the mountains. So they v/ent forth 
with them, and walked a while, having a pleasant pros- 
pect on every side. Then said the shepherds one to 
another. Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders ? 
So, when they had concluded to do it, they had them 
first to the top of a hill called Error, which was ver^ 
steep on the farthest side, and bid them look down 
to the bottom. So Christian and Hopeful looked down, 
and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to pieces 
by a fall that they had had from the top. Then sai(J 
Christian, What meaneth this? The shepherds aft 



2 1 o THE PIL GRIM 'S PROGRESS. 

swered, Have you notheai'd of them that were made to 
err, by hearkening to Hymeneus and Philetus, as con- 
cerning the faith of the resurrection of the body ? (2 
Tim. 2 : 17, 18.) They answered. Yes. Then said vae 
shepherds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at 
the bottom of this mountain are they ; and they have 
continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an 
^xample to others to take heed how they chimber too 
high, or how they come too near the brink of this 
mountain. 

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another 
mountain, and the name of that is Caution, and bid 
them look afar off, which, when they did, they per- 
ceived, as they thought, several men walking up and 
down among the tombs that were there ; and they per- 
ceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled 
sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could not 
get out from among them. Then said Christian, Wha^ 
means this ? 

The shepherds then answered, Did you not see, a 
little below these mountains, a stile that led into a 
meadow, on the left hand of this way ? They answered, 
Yes. Then said the shepherds, From that stile there 
goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, 
which is kept by Giant Despair; and these men (point- 
ing to iLein among the tombs) came once on pilgrimage, 
as you do now, even until they came to that same stile. 
And because the right way was rough in that place, 
they chos3 to go out of it into that meadow, and there 
were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting 
Castle ; where, after they had a while been kept in the 
dungeon, he at last did put * ut their eyes, and led 
them among those tombs, where he has left them to 
wander to this very day ; that the saying of the wiso 



THE PIL GRIM'S PROGRESS. 211 

man might he fulfilled, " He that wandereth out of the 
wa}^ of understanding shall remain in the congregation 
of the dead.*' (Prov. 21: 16.) Then Christian and 
Hopeful looked one upon another, with tears gushing 
out, but yet said nothing to the shepherds. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the shepherds had 
them to another place in a bottom, where was a door 
on the side of a hill . and they opened the door, and bid 
them look in. They looked in, therefore, and saw that 
within it was very dark and smoky ; they also thought 
that they heard there a rumbling noise, as of fire, and 
a cry of some tormented, and that they smelt the scent 
of brimstone. 

Then said Christian, What means this ? The shep* 
herds told them. This is a by-way to hell, a way that 
hypocrites go in at ; namely, such as sell their birth- 
right, with Esau ; such as sell their Master, with Judas ; 
such as blaspheme the Gospel, with Alexander ; and 
that lie and dissemble, with Ananias, and Sapphira his 
wife. 

Then said Hopeful to the shepherds, I perceive that 
these had on them, even every one, a show of pilgrim- 
age, as we have now ; had they not ? 

Shep. Yes, and held it a long time, too. 

Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in 
their day, since they, notwithstanding, were thus miser- 
ably cast away ? 

Shep. Some farther, and some not so far as theso 
mountains. 

Then said the pilgrims one to the other, We had 
need to cry to the Strong for strength. 

Shep. Aye, and you will have need to use it, when 
you have it, too. 

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, 
and the shepherds a desire they should ; so they walked 



212 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

together towards the end of the mountains. Then said 
the shepherds one to another, Let us here show the pil- 
grims the gates of the Celestial City, if they have skill 
to look through our perspective glass. The pilgrims 
then lovingly accepted the motion : so they had them 
to the top of a high hill, called Clear, and gave them 
the glass to look. 

Then they tried to look ; but the remembrance of 
that last thing that the shepherds had shown them 
made their hands shake, by means of which impediment 
they could not look steadily through the glass ; yet 
they thought they saw something like the gate, and 
also some of the glory of the place. Then they went 
away, and sang : — 

" Thus, by the Shepherds, secrets are reveal' d, 
Which from all other men are kept conceal'd : 
Come to the Shepherds, then, if you would see 
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be." 

When they were about to depart, one of the shep- 
herds gave them a note of the way. Another of them 
bid them beware of the Flatterer. The third bid them 
take heed that they slept not upon the Enchanted 
Ground. And the fourth bid them God speed. So I 
awoke from my dream. 



THE NINTH STAGE. 



And I slept and dreamed again, and saw the same 
two pilgrims going down the mountains along the high- 
way towards the city. Now, a little below these moun- 
tains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit, 
from which country there comes into the way in which 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 21 j 

the pilgrims walked a little crooked lane. Here, there» 
fore, they met with a very brisk lad that came out ol 
that country, and his name was Ignorance. So Chrisf 
tian asked him from what parts he came, and whithel 
he was going. 

Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off 
there, a little on the left hand, and I am going to the 
Celestial City. 

Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gatQ 
for you may find some difficulty there ? 

Ignor. As other good people do, said he. 

Chr. But what have you to show at that gate, that 
the gate should be opened to you? 

Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and have been a good 
liver ; I pay every man his own ; I pray, fast, pay tithes, 
and give alms, and have left my country for whither I 
am going. 

Chr. But thou camest not in at the wicket-gate, 
that is at the head of this way ; thou camest in hither 
through that same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, 
however thou mayest think of thyself, when the reckon- 
ing-day shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge, 
that thou art a thief and a robber, instead of getting 
admittance into the city. 

Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me ; I 
know you not ; be content to follow the religion of 
your country, and I will follow the religion of mine. I 
hope all will be well. And as for the gate that you 
talk of, all the world knows that it is a great way off cf 
our country. I cannot think that any man in all our 
parts doth so much as know the way to it ; nor need 
they matter whether they do or no, since we have, as 
you see, a fine, pleasant, green lane, that comes down 
&!om our country, the next way into the way. 

When Christian saw that the man was wise in hia 



4 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

own conceit, he said to Hopeful, whisperingly, "Ther^ 
is more hope of a fool than of him." (Prov. 26 : 12.) 
And said, moreover, " When he that is a fool walketh 
by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to 
every one that he is a fool." (Eccles. 10 : 3.) What, 
fihall we talk further with him, or outgo him at present, 
and so leave him to think of what he hath heard al- 
ready, and then stop again for him afterwards, and see 
if by degrees we can do any good by him ? Then said 
Hopeful : 

** Let Ignorance a little while now muso 
On what is said, and let him not refuse 
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain 
Still ignorant of what's the chiefest gain. 
God saith. Those that no understanding have, 
(Although He made them), them He will not save." 

He further added, It is not good, I think, to say sii 
to him all at once ; let us pass him by, if you will, an«t 
talk to him anon, even as he is able to bear it. 

So they both went on, and Ignorance came aftei. 
Now, when they had passed him a little way, they en- 
tered into a very dark lane, where they met a man whora 
eeven devils had bound with seven strong cords, and 
were carrying him back to the door that they saw on 
the side of the hill. (Matt. 12: 45; Prov. 5: 22.) 
Now good Christian began to tremble, and so did Hope- 
ful, his companion ; yet, as the devils led away the man, 
Christian looked to see if he knew him ; and he thought 
it might be one Turnaway, that dwelt in the town of 
Apostacy. But he did not perfectly see his face, for he 
did hang his head like a thief that is found , but, being 
gone past. Hopeful looked after him, and espied on hii? 
back a paper with this inscription, " Wanton profess(W% 
and damnable apostate." 



r 




THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 215 

Then said Christian to his fellow. Now I call to my 
rcmerabrance that which was told me of a thing that 
happened to a good man hereabout. The name of the 
man was Littleiaith ; but a good man, and he dwelt in 
the town of Sincere. The thing was this. At the en- 
tering in at this passage, there comes down from Broad' 
way-gate a lane, called Deadman's lane ; so called be- 
cause of the murders that are commonly done there ; 
and this Littlefaith going on pilgrimage, as we do now, 
chanced to sit down there and sleep. Now there hap- 
pened at that time to come down the lane from Broad- 
way-gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were 
Faintheart, Mistrust and Guilt, three brothers ; and 
they, espying Littlefaith where he was, came galloping 
up with speed. Now, the good man was just awakened 
from his sleep, and was getting up to go on his journey. 
So they came up all to him, and with threatening lan- 
guage bid ir.im stand. At this, Littlefaith looked as 
white as a sheet, and had neither power to fight nor fly. 
Then .<iaid Faintheart, Deliver thy purse ; but he mak- 
ing no haste to do it (for he was loth to lose his money). 
Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into his^ 
pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he 
cried out. Thieves, thieves ! With that. Guilt, with a 
great club that was in his hand, struck Littlefaith on 
the head, and with that blow felled him flat to the 
ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would bleed 
to death. All this while the tiiieves stood by. But^ 
at last, they hearing that some were upon the road, and 
fearing lest it should be one Greatgrace, that dwells in 
the town of Good-Confidence, they betook themselves 
to their heels, and left this good man to shift for him- 
self. Now, after a while, Littlefaith came to himself, 
and getting up, made shift to scram])le on his way. 
This was the story* 



2l5 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

Hope. But did they take from him all that ever h8 
had? 

Chr. No; the place where his jewels were they 
never ransacked ; so those he kept still. But, as I was 
told, the good man was much afflicted for his loss ; for 
the thieves got most of his spending-money. That 
which they got not, as I said, were jewels ; also, he hac? 
a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring him 
to his journey's end. Nay (if I was not misinformed), 
he was forced to beg as he went, to keep himself alivct 
for his jewels he might not sell ; but beg and do what 
he could, he went, as we say, with many a hungry belly, 
the most part of the rest of the way. (1 Pet. 4 : 18.) 

Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from 
him his certificate, by which he was to receive his ad. 
mittance at the Celestial Gate ? 

Chr. It is a wonder; but they got not that, though 
they missed it not through any good cunning of his ; 
for he, being dismayed by their coming upon him, had 
iQeither power nor skill to hide any thing ; so it was 
•more bv good providence than by his endeavor that 
they missed of that good thing. (2 Tim. 1 : 12-14 ; 2 
Pet. 2: 9.) 

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that 
they got not this jewel from him. 

Chr. It might have been great comfort to him, had 
he used it as he should ; but they that told me the 
story said that he made but little use of it all the rest 
of the way, and that because of the dismay that he had 
in the taking away his money. Indeed, he forgot it a 
great part of the rest of his journey ; and besides, when 
at any time it came into his mind, and he began to be 
comforted therewith, then would fresh thoughts of his 
loss come again upon him, and these thoughts would 
•wallow up all. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 2iy 

Hope. Alas, poor man ! this could not but be a great 
grief to him. 

Chr. Grief? Aye, a grief indeed! Would it not 
have been so to any of us, had we been used as he, to 
be robbed and wounded too, and that in a strange place, 
as he was ? It is a wonder he did not die with grief, 
poor heart. I was told that he scattered almost all the 
rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter 
complaints : telling also to all that overtook him, or 
that he overtook in the way as he went, where he wa« 
robbed, and how ; who they were that did it, and wha* 
he had lost ; how he was wounded, and that he hardlj 
escaped with life. 

Hope. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not 
put him upon selling or pawning some of his jewels* 
that he might have wherewith to relieve himself in hiw 
journey. 

Chr. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the 
shell to this very day. For what should he pawn them V 
or to whom should he sell them? In all that country 
where he was robbed, his jewels were not accounted of; 
nor did he want that relief which could from thence be 
administered to him. Besides, had the jewels been 
missing at the gate of the Celestial City, he had (and 
that he knew well enough) been excluded from an 
inheritance there, and that would have been worse ta 
him than the appearance and villany of ten thousand 
thieves. 

Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother ? Esau sold 
his birthright, and that for a mess of pottage (Heb. 12 : 
16); and that birthright was his greatest jewel : and if 
he, why might not Littlefaith do so, too ? 

Chr. Esau did sell his birthright, indeed ; and so do 
many besides, and by so doing exclude themselves from 
the chief blessing, as also that caitiff did ; but you must 



2lS T?^E PTIGRTM*S PROGRESS, 

put a difference betwixt Esau and Littlefaith, and als<5 
betwixt their estates. Esau's birthright was typical \ 
but Littlefaith's jewels were not so. Esau's belly waa 
his god; but Littlefaith's b^lly ws-s not so. Esau's 
want lay in his fleshy appetite ; Littlefaith's did not so. 
Besides, Esau could see no further than the fulfilling of 
his lusts : " For I am at the point to die," said he, '* and 
what good will this birthright do me ? " (Gen. 25 : 32.) 
But, Littlefaith, though it was his lot to have but a 
little faith, was by his little faith kept from such ex- 
travagances, and made to see and prize his jewels more 
than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You read 
not anywhere that Esau had faith, no, not so much as a 
little ; therefore no marvel, where the flesh only bears 
sway (as it will in that man where no faith is to resist), 
if he sells his birthright, and his soul and all, and that 
to the devil of hell ; for it is with such as it is with the 
ass, "' who, in her occasion, cannot be turned away 
(Jei. 2: 24): when their minds are set upon theii 
lusts, they will have them whatever they cost. But 
Littlefaith was of another temper ; his mind was on 
things divine ; his livelihood was upon things that were 
spiritual, and from above : therefore, to what end should 
he that is of such a temper sell his jewels (had there 
been any that would have bought them) to fill his mind 
with empty things ? Will a man give a penny to fill 
tis belly with hay ? or can you per&uade the turtle* 
dove to live upon carrion, like the crow ? Though faith* 
less ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, or 
sell what they have, and themselves outright, to boot ; 
yet they that have Haith, saving faith, though but a little 
of it, can not do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy 
mistake. 

Hope. I acknowledge it ; but yet your seveiv reflex 
Uon had almost made me angry. 



THE PILGRIM* S PROGRESS. 219 

Chb. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the 
birds that are of the brisker sort, who will run to and 
fro in untrodden paths with the shell upon their heads: 
but pass by that, and consider the matter under debate, 
and all shall be well betwixt thee and me. 

Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am 
persuaded in my heart, are but a company of cowards; 
would they have run, else, think you, as they did, at th@ 
noise of one that was coming on the road ? Why did 
not Littlefaith pluck up a greater heart ? He mighty 
methinks, have stood one brush with them, and have 
yielded when there had been no remedy. 

Chr. That they are cowards, many have said ; but 
few have found it so in the time of trial. As for a great 
heart, Littlefaith had none ; and I perceive by thee, my 
brother, hadst thou been the man concerned, thou art 
but for a brush, and then to yield. And, verily, since 
this is the height of thy stomach, now they are at a 
distance from us, shoald they appear to thee as they 
did to him, they might put thee to second thoughts. 

But consider, again, that they are but journeymen 
thieves ; they serve under the king of the bottomless 
pit, who, if need be, will come to their aid himself, and 
his voice is " as the roaring of a lion." (1 Pet. 5 : 8.) 
I myself have been engaged as this Littlefaith was, and 
found it a terrible thing. These three villains set upon 
me, and I beginning like a Christian to resist, they gave 
but a call, and in came their master. I would, as the 
saying is, have given my life for a penny, but that, aS' 
God would have it, I was clothed with armor of prool 
Aye, and yet, though I was so harnessed, I found it 
hard work to quit myself like a man. No man can tel 
what in that combat attends us, but he that hath been 
|p. the laattle himself 



220 TBE PILGRTM^S PROGRESS, 

Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did 
but suppose that one Greatgrace was in the way. 

Chr. True, they have often fled, both they and thehf 
master, when Greatgrace hath but appeared ; and, no 
marvel, for he is the king's champion. But I trow yott 
will put some difference between Littlefaith and the 
King's champion. All the King's subjects are not His 
champions ; nor can they, when tried, do such feats of 
war as he. Is it meet to think that a little child should 
handle Goliath as David did ? or that there should be 
the strength of an ox in a wren ? Some are strong, 
some are weak ; some have great faith, some have little i 
this man was one of the weak, and therefore he went 
to the wall. 

Hope. I would it had been Greatgrace, for thefr 
sakes. 

Chr. If it had been he, he might have had h(s 
hands full ; for I must tell you, that though Greatgrat^e 
is excellent good at his weapons, and has, and can, ^o 
long as he keeps them at sword's point, do well enougfk 
with them ; yet if they get within him, even Faintheart;, 
Mistrust, or the other, it shall go hard or they wi/l 
throw up his heels. And when a man is down, ycu 
know, what can he do ? 

Whoso looks well upon Greatgrace's face, will see 
those scars and cuts there that shall easily give demon- 
stration of what I say. Yea, once I heard that he 
should say (and that when he was in combat). We de- 
spaired even of life. How did these sturdy rogues and 
their fellows make David groan, mourn, and roar ! Yea, 
Heman (Psalm 88), and Hezekiah, too, though cham- 
pions in their days, were forced to bestir them when by 
these assaulted ; and yet, notwithstanding, they had 
their coats soundly brushed by them. Peter, upon a 
time, would go try what he could do * but, though some 



THE PILGRIM^S PROGRESS, ^%\ 

do say of him that he is the prince of the apostles, they 
handled him so that they made him at last afraid of a 
sorry girl. 

Besides, their king is at their whistle ; he is nevei 
Out of hearing ; and, if at any time they be put to the 
l^orst, he, if possible, comes in to help them ; and of 
iLim it is said, ** The sword of him that layeth at him 
cannot hold ; the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon 
He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten woodc 
The arrow cannot make him fly ; sling-stones are turned 
with him to stubble. Darts are counted as stubble ; 
he laugheth at the shaking of a spear." (Job 41 : 
26-29.) What can a man do in this case ? It is true, 
if a man could at every turn have Job's horse, and had 
skill and courage to ride him, he might do notable 
things. " For his neck is clothed with thunder. He 
9 ill not be afraid as a grasshopper : the glory of his nos- 
fcils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth 
iit his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men. 
Ke mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; neither turn- 
e-h he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth 
against him, the glittering spear and the shield. He 
Bwalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage ; nei- 
ther believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. 
He saith among the trumpets. Ha, ha ! and he smelleth 
the battle afar off, the thunder i>i the captains, and the 
shouting." (Job 39 : 19-25.) 

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never 
desire to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could 
do better, when we hear of others that have been foiled, 
nor be tickled at the thoughts of our own manhood ; 
for such commonly come by the worst when tried. 
Witness Peter, of whom I made mention before : he 
would swagger, aye, he would ; he would, as his vain 
mmd prompted him to say, do better and stand more 



222 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

for his Master than all men : but who so foiled and run 
down by those villains as he ? 

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are 
done on the King's highway, two things become us 
to do. 

1. To go out harnessed, and be sure to take a shield 
with us : for it was for want of that, that he who laid 
so lustily at Leviathan could not make him yield : for, 
indeed, if that be wanting, he fears us not at all. There- 
fore, He that had skill hath said, " Above all, take the 
shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all 
the fiery darts of the wicked." (Eph. 6 : 16.) 

2. It is good, also, that we desire of the king a con- 
voy, yea, that he will go with us Himself. This made 
David rejoice when in the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death ; and Moses was rather for dying where he stood 
than to go one step without his God. (Exod. 33 : 15.) 

Oh, my brother, if He will but go along with us, 
what need we be afraid of ten thousands that shall set 
themselves against us? (Psalm 3 : 5-8; 27 : 1-3.) But, 
without Him, the proud helpers fall under the slain. 
(Isa. 10 : 4.) 

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now $ 
and though (through the goodness of Him that is best) 
I am, as you see, alive, yet I cannot boast of my man* 
hood. Glad shall I be if I meet with no more such 
brunts ; though I fear we are not got beyond all dan- 
ger. However, since the lion and the bear have not as 
yet devoured me, I hope God will also deliver us from 
the next uncircumcised Philistine. Then sang Chris" 
tian,— 

" Poor Littlefaith ! Hast been among the thieves? 
Wast robbed ? Remember this, whoso beheves, 
And get more faith : then shall you victors be 
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three." 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 223 

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They 
went on till they came at a place where they saw a 
way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie 
as straight as the way which they should go ; and here 
they knew not which of the two to take, for both 
seemed straight before them : therefore, here they stood 
still to consider. And, as they were thinking about 
the way, behold, a man, black of flesh, but covered 
with a very light robe, came to them, and asked them 
why they stood there. They answered, they were go- 
ing to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these 
ways to take. " Follow me," said the man, " it is 
thither that I am going." So they followed him in the 
way that but now came into the road, which by degrees 
turned, and turned them so far from the city that they 
desired to go to, that in a little time their faces were 
turned away from it ; yet they followed him. But, by 
und by, before they were aware, he led them both with- 
in the compass of a net, in which they were both so en- 
tangled that they knew not what to do; and with thast 
the white robe fell off the black man's back. Then 
they saw where they were. Wherefore there they lay 
crying some time, for they could not get themselves 
out. 

Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I 
see myself in an error. Did not the shepherds bid us 
beware of the Flatterer ? As is the saying of the wise 
man, so we have found it this day : " A man that flat- 
tereth his neighbor, spreadeth a net for his feet." (Prov- 
29: 5.; 

Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about 
ihe way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein 
we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept our- 
selves from the paths of the destroyer. Here David 
was wiser than we ; for saith he, " Concerning the 



224 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



works of men, by the word of Thy lips I have kept me 
from the paths of the destroyer." (Psalm 17 : 4.) Thus 
they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At last they 
espied a Shining One coming towards them, with a 
whip of small cords in his hand. When he was come 
to the place where they were, he asked them whence 
they came, and what they did there. They told him 
that they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were 
led out of their way by a black man clothed in white, 
who bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going 
thither, too. Then said he with the whip. It is Flat- 
terer, a false apostle, that hath transformed himself into 
an angel of light. (Dan. 11 : 32 ; 2 Cor. 11 ; 13, 14.) 
So he rent the net, and let the men out. Then said he 
to them. Follow me, that I may set you in your way 
again. So he led them back to the way which they had 
left to follow the Flatterer. Then he asked them, say- 
ing, Where did you lie the last night? They said, 
With the shepherds upon the Delectable Mountains. 
He asked them then if they had not of the shepherds a 
note of direction for the way. They answered, Yes. 
But did you not, said he, when you were at a stand, 
pluck out and read your note ? They answered, No. 
He asked them. Why ? They said they forgot. He 
asked, moreover, if the shepherds did not bid them be- 
ware of the Flatterer. They answered, Yes ; but we 
did not imagine, said they, that this fine spoken man 
had been he. (Rom. 16: 17, 18.) 

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them 
to lie down ; which, when they did, he chastised them 
sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should 
walk (Deut. 25 : 2 ; 2 Chron. 6 : 27) ; and as he chas- 
tised them, he said, " As many as I love, I rebuke and 
chasten ; be zealous, therefore, and repent." (Rev. 3 : 
19.) This done, he bids them to go on their way, and 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 225 

take good heed to the other directions of the shepherds. 
So they thanked him for all his kindness, and went 
softly along the right way, singing, — 

" Come hither, you that walk along the way, 
See how the pilgrims fare that go astray: 
They catched are in an entangled net, 
'Cause they good counsel lightly did forget. 
*Tis true, they rescu'd were ; but yet, you see. 
They're scourged to boot : let this your caution be.** 

Now, after a while, they perceived, afar off, one 
coming softly, and alone, all along the highway, to 
meet them. Then said Christian to his fellow. Yonder 
is a man with his back towards Zion, and he is coming 
to meet us. 

Hope. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now, 
lest he should prove a Flatterer also. So he drew 
nearer and nearer, and at last came up to them. His 
name was Atheist, and he asked them whither they 
were going. 

Chr. We are going to Mount Zion. 

Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 

Chr. What's the meaning of your laughter ? 

Atheist. I laugh to ^ee what ignorant persons yon 
are to take upon you so tedious a journey, and yet 
are like to have nothing but your travel for your pains. 

Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall not be re^ 
ceived ? 

Atheist. Received ! There is not such a place as 
^you dream of in all this world. 

Chr. But there is in the world to come. 

Atheist. When 1 was at home in my own country 
I heard as you now affirm; and, from that hearing, went 
out to see, and have been seeking this city these twenty 
years, but find no more of it than I did the first day J 
«et out. (Eccles. 10. 15 ; Jer. 17 : 15.) 



l£ 



J26 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Chr. We have both heard, and believe, that ther« 
is such a place to be found. 

Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had 
not come thus far to seek; but, finding none (and yet 
I should, had there been such a place to be found, for I 
have gone to seek it farther than 3'ou), I am going back 
again, and will seek to refresh myself with the things 
that I then cast away, for hopes of that which I no\» 
see is not. 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, his compan* 
ion, Is it true which this man hath said ? 

Hope. Take heed, he is one of the Flatterers. Re« 
member what it cost us once already for our hearkening 
to such kind of fellows. What ! no Mount Zion ! Did 
we not see from the Delectable Mountains the gate of 
the city ? Also, are we not now to walk by faith ? (2 
Cor. 5 : 7.) Let us go on, lest the man with the whip 
overtake us again. You should have taught me that 
lesson, which I will sound you in the ears withal ; 
*' Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to 
err from the words of knowledge." (Prov. 19: 27.) I 
say, my brother, cease to hear him, and let us " believe 
to the saving of the soul." (Heb. 10 : 39.) 

Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to 
thee, for that I doubted of the truth of our belief my- 
self, but to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of 
the honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I know that 
lie is blinded by the god of this world. Let thee and 1 
go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth ; and 
** no iie is of the truth." (1 John 2 : 21.) 

Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of 
God. 

So they turned away from the man ; and he, laugh 
ing at them, went his way. 

I then saw in my dream, that they went on until 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 227 

they came into a certain country whose air naturally 
tended to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger into 
it. And here Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy 
to sleep ; wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now 
begin to grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold open 
mine eyes ; let us lie down here, and take one nap. ^ 

Chr. By no means, said the other ; lest, sleeping^ 
we never awake more. 

Hope. Why, my brother, sleep is sweet to the labor- 
ing man : we may be refreshed, if we take a nap. 

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the shep- 
herds bid us beware of the Enchanted Ground? He 
meant by that, that we should beware of sleeping i 
'' therefore, let us not sleep, as do others ; but let us 
watch and be sober." (1 Thess. b\^>) 

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault ; and had I 
been here alone, I had, by sleeping, run the danger of 
death. I see it is true that the wise man saith, " Two 
are better than one." (Eccl. 4 : 9.) Hitherto hath thy 
company been my mercy ; and thou shalt have a good 
reward for thy labor. 

Chr. Now, then, said Christian, to prevent drowsir 
ness in this place, let us fall into good discourse. 
Hope. With all my heart, said the other. 
Chr. Where shall we begin ? 
Hope. Where God began with us. But do you be- 
gin, if you please. 

Chr. I will sing you first this song :— 

" When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, 
And hear how these two pilgrims talk together ; 
Yea, let them learn of them in any wise, 
Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumbering eyes. 
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell." 

Then Christian began, and said, I will ask you a 



228 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

question. How came you to think at first of doing 
what you do now ? 

Hope. Do 3^ou mean how I came at first to look 
after the good of my soul ? 

Chr. Yes, that is my meaning. 

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of 
those things which were seen and sold at our fair; 
ihings which I believe now would have, had I contin- 
ued in them still, drowned me in perdition and destruc- 
tion. 

Ohr. What things were they ? 

Hop.e. All the treasures and riches of the world. 

Also, I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, 

swearing, lying, uncleanness, Sabbath-breaking, and 

what not, that tended to destroy the soul. But I found 

ab last, by hearing and considering of things that are 

divine, which, indeed, I heard of you, as also of beloved 

Faithful that was put to death for his faith and good 

living in Vanity Fair, " that the end of these things is 

death " (Rom. 6 : 21-23) ; and that, " for these things* 

sake, the wrath of God cometh upon the children of 

disobedience." (Eph. 5 . 6.) 

^ Chr. And did you presently fall under the power of 
this conviction? 

Hope. No, I was not willing presently to know the 
evil of sin, nor the damnation that follows upon the 
commission of it; but endeavojed, when my mind at 
first began to be shaken with the word, to shut mine 
eyes against the light thereof. 

Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying of it 
thus to the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon 
you? 

Hope. The causes were, 1. I was ignorant that this 
was the work of God upon me. I never thought that 
by awakenings for sin, God at first begins the conversioo 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 999 

of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet very sweet to my flesh, and 
I was loth to leave it. 3. I could not tell how to part 
with mine old companions, their presence and actions 
were so desirable unto me. 4. The hours in which con- 
victions came upon me were so troublesome and such 
heart-aftrighting hours, that I could not bear, no, not so 
much as the remembrance of them upon my heart. 

Chb. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of 
your trouble ? 

Hope. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind 
again ; and then I should be as bad, nay, worse, than I 
was before. 

Che. Why, what was it that brought your sins to 
mind again ? 

Hope. Many things ; as, — 

1. If I did not meet a good man in these streets; or, 

2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or, 

3. If mine head did begin to ache ; or, 

4. If I were told that some of my neighbors were 
sick; or, 

5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; or, 

6. If I thought of dying myself; or, 

T. If I heard that sudden death happened to others. 

8. But especially when I thought of myself, that I 
must quickly come to judgment. 

Chr. And could you at any time, with ease, get oflf 
the guilt of sin, when by any of these ways it came 
upon you? 

Hope. No, not I ; for then they got faster hold of 
my conscience ; and then, if I did but think of going 
back to sin (though my mind was turned against it), it 
would be double torment to me. 

Hope. And how did you then? 

Chb. I thought I must endeavor to mend my lifoi 
or else, thought I, I am sure to be damned. 



^30 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

Chr. And did you endeavor to mend ? 

Hope. Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but 
sinful company too, and betook me to religious dutiesi 
as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to 
my neighbors, &c. These things did I, with many 
others, too much here to relate. 

Chr. And did you think yourself well, then? 

Hope. Yes, for a while ; but at the last m}^ trouble 
came tumbling upon me again, and that over the neck 
of all my reformations. 

Chr. How came that about, since you were now 
reformed ? 

Hope. There were several things brought it upon 
me, especially such sayings as these : " All our 
righteousness are as filthy rags." (Isa. 64 : 6.) " By 
the works of the law shall no flesh be justified." (Gal* 
2 : 16.) " When ye have done all these things, say» 
We are unprofitable" (Luke 17 : 10) ; with many more 
such like. From whence I began to reason with my- 
self thus : If all my righteousness are as filthy rags ; if^ 
by the deeds of the law no man can be justified; and if, 
when we have done all, we are yet unprofitable, then is 
it but folly to think of heaven by the law. I further 
thought thus : If a man runs a hundred pounds into 
the shopkeeper's debt, and after that shall pay for all 
that he shall fetch , yet it his old debt stand still in the 
book uncrossed, the shopkeeper may sue him for it, and 
:jast him into prison, till he shall pay the debt. 

Chr. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself? 

Hope. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have 
by my sins run a great way into God's book, and my 
now reforming will not pay off that score ; therefore I 
should think still, under all my present amendments. 
But how shall I be freed from that damnation that 1 
brougnt myself in danger of by my former transgressic^s 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 2%\ 

Chr. a very good application : but pray go ono 

Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me ever 
since my late amendments, is, that if I look narrowly 
into the best of what I do now, I still see sin, new sin, 
mixing itself with the best of that I do ; so that now I 
am forced to conclude, that notwithstanding my former 
fond conceits of myself and duties, I have committed 
sin enough in one day to send me to hell, though my 
former life had been faultless. 

Chr. And what did you then ? 

Hope. Do ! I could not tell what to do, until I broke 
my mind to Faithful ; for he and I were well acquainted. 
And he told me, that unless I could obtain the right» 
eousness of a man that never had sinned, neither min*^ 
own, nor all the righteousness of the world, could 
save me. 

Chr. And did you think he spake true ? 

Hope. Had he told me so when I was pleased and 
satisfied with mine own amendments, I had called him 
fool for his pains ; but now, since I see mine own 
infirmity, and the sin which cleaves to my best perform 
ances, I have been forced to be of his opinion. 

Chr. But did you think, when at first he suggested 
it to you, that there was such a man to be found, of 
whom it might justly be said, that he never committed 
sin? 

Hope. I must confess the words at first sounded 
strangely ; but, after a little more talk and company 
with him, I had full conviction about it. 

Chr. And did you ask him what man this was, and 
how you must be justified by him ? 

Hope. Yes, and he told me it was the Lord Jesus, 
that dwelleth on the right hand of the Most High* 
(Heb. 10 : 12-21.) And thus, said he, you must be 
justified by him, even by trusting to what He hath done 



2-2 7^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

by Himself in the days of His flesh, and suffered w^heB 
He did hang on the tree. (Rom. 4:5; Col. 1: 14., 
1 Pet. 1: 19.) I asked him further, how that man's 
righteousness could be of such efiicacy as to justify 
ano;her before God. And he told me. He was the 
mighty God, and did what He did, and died the death 
also, not for Himself, but for me ; to whom His doings, 
and the worthiness of them, should be imputed, if I be* 
lieved on Him. 

Chr. And what did you then? 

HoPEo I made my objections against my believing, 
for that I thought he was not willing to save me. 

Chr. And what said Faithful to you, then? 

Hope. He bid me go to Him, and see. Then I said 
it was presumption. He said, No ; for I was invited 
to come. (Matt. 11 : 28.) Then he gave me a book of 
Jesus' inditing, to encourage me the more freely to 
come ; and he said, concerning that book, that every 
jot and tittle thereof stood firmer than heaven and earth. 
(Matt. 24 : 35.) Then I asked him what I must do 
when I came ; and he told me, I must entreat upon my 
knees (Psalm 95 : 6 : Dan. 6 : 10), with all my heart and 
soul (Jer. 29 : 12, 13), the Father to reveal Him to me. 
Then I asked him, further, how I must make my suppli- 
cations to Him ; and he said. Go, and thou shalt find 
Him upon a mercy-seat, where he sits all the year long, 
to give pardon and forgiveness to them that come. 
(Exod. 2S: 22; Lev. 16: 2; Num. 7 : 89; Heb. 4: 
16.) I told him, that I knew not what to say when I 
came ; and he bid rae say to this effect : '' God be merci- 
ful to me a sinner," and make me to know and believe 
in Jesus Christ ; for I see that if His righteousness had 
not been, or I have not faiih in that righteousness, I am 
utterly cast away. Lord, J have heard that Thou art a 
merciful God, and hast ordained that Thy Son Jesus 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 233 

Christ should be the Sav ^'ir of the world , and, more- 
over, that Thou art willing to bestow Him upon such a 
poor sinner as I am ; — and I am a sinner, indeed. Lord, 
take therefore this opportunity, and magnify Thy grace 
in the salvation of my soul, through Thy Son Jesus 
Christ. Amen. 

Chr. And did you do as you were bidden? 

Hope. Yes ; over, and over, and over. 

Chr. And did the Father reveal the Son to you ? 

Hope. No ; not at the first, nor second, nor third, 
nor fourth, nor fifth ; no, nor at the sixth time, neither. 

Chr. What did you then ? 

Hope. What '^ Why, I could not tell what to do. 

Chr. Had you no thoughts of leaving off praying ? 

Hope. Yes, and a hundred times twice told. 

Chr. And what was the reason you did not I 

Hope. I believed that it was true which hath been 
told me, to wit, that without the righteousness of this 
Christ, all the world could not save me ; and therefore, 
thought I with myself, if I leave off, I die, and I can but 
die at the Throne of Grace. And withal, this came into 
my mind, *' If it tarry, wait for it ; because it will surely 
come, and will not tarry." (Hab. 2; 3.) So I con* 
tinued praying until the Father showed me His Son. 

Chr. And how was He revealed unto you? 

Hope. I did not see Him with my bodily eyes, but 
with the eyes of mine understanding (Eph. 1 : 18, 19) ; 
and thus it was : One day I was very sad, I think sadder 
than at any one time in my life ; and this sadness was 
through a fresh sight of the greatness and vileness of 
my sins. And as I was then looking for nothing but 
hell, and the everlasting damnation of my soul, suddenly, 
as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus look down from 
heaven upon me, and saying, " Believe on the Lord 
Jesus Christ, and tliou shalt be saved.*' (Acts 16 : 31.^ 



f34 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

But I replied, Lord, I arr > great, a very great, sin* 
ner ! And He answered, " My grace is sufficient foi 
thee." (2 Cor. 12 . 9.) Then I said. But, Lord, what is 
believing ? And then I saw from that saying, " He that 
Cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth 
on me shall never thirst " (John 6 : 35), that believing 
and coming was all one , and that he that came, that is, 
that ran out in his heart and affections after salvation 
by Christ, he indeed believed in Christ. Then the 
water stood in mine e3^es, and I asked further, But, 
Lord, may such a great sinner as I am be indeed ac- 
cepted of Thee, and saved by Thee? And I heard 
him say, " And him that cometh to me, I will in no wise 
cast out." (John 6 ; 37.) Then I said. But how, Lord, 
must I consider of Thee in my coming to Thee, that 
my faith may be placed aright upon Thee ? Then He 
Baid, Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. 
(Tim. 1 : 15.) He is the end of the law for righteous- 
ness to every one that believes. (Rom. 10 : 4, and chap. 
4.) He died for our sins, and rose again for our justifi- 
eaticn. (Rom. 4 : 25.) He loved us, and washed us 
from our sins in His own blood. (Rev. 1 : 5.) He is 
the Mediator between God and us. (1 Tim. 2 : 5.) He 
ever liveth to make intercession for us. (Heb. 7 : 25.) 
From all which I gathered, that I must look for right- 
eousness in His person, and for satisfaction for my sins 
by His blood : that what he did in obedience to His 
Father's law, and in submitting to the penalty thereof, 
was not for Himself, but for him that will accept it for 
his salvation, and be thankful. And now was my heart 
full of joy, mine eyes full of tears, and mine affections 
running over with love to the name, people, and ways 
of Jesus Christ. 

Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul, 



THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS. 235 

indeed. But tell me particularly what eifect this had 
upon your spirit. 

Hope. It made me see that all the tvorld, notwith- 
standing all the righteousness thereof, is in a state of 
condemnation. It made me see that God the Father, 
though He be just, can justly justify the coming sinner. 
It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my 
former life, and confounded me with the sense of mine 
own ignorance ; for there never came a thought into 
my heart before now that showed me so the beauty of 
Jesus Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to 
do something for the honor and glory of the name of 
the Lord Jesus. Yea, I thought that had I now % 
thousand gallons of blood in my body, I could spill it 
all for the sake of the Lord Jesus. 

I saw then, in my dream, that Hopeful looked back, 
and saw Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming 
after. Look, said he to Christian, how far yonder 
youngster loitereth behind. 

Chr. Aye, aye, I see him : he careth not for our 
company. 

Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him, had 
he kept pace with us hitherto. 

Chr. That is true ; but I warrant you he thinketh 
otherwise. 

Hope. That I think he doth ; but, however, let us 
tarry for him. 

So they did. 

Then Christian said to him, Come away, man ; why 
do you stay so behind ? 

Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even 
more a great deal than in company, unless I like it the 
better. 

Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), Did I 
Dot tell you he cared not for our company ? But, how- 



236 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

ever, said he, come up, and let us talk away the time 
in this solitary place. Then, directing his speech to 
Ignorance, he said. Come, how do you do ? How stands 
it beween God and your soul, now? 

Ignor. I hope well ; for I am always full of good 
motions, that come into my mind to comfort me as I 
walk. 

Chr. What good motions ? Pray, tell us. 

Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven. 

Chr. So do the devils and damned souls. 

Ignor. But I think of them, and desire them. 

Chr. So do many that are never like to come there. 
" The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing/' 
(l^rov. 13 : 4.) 

Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for them. 

Chr. That I doubt : for to leave all is a very hard 
matter ; yea, a harder matter than many are aware of. 
But why, or by what, art thou persuaded that thou 
has left all for God in heaven ? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. The wise man says, " He that trusteth in hia 
Dwn heart is a fool." (Prov. 28 : 26 ) 

Ignor. That is spoken of an evil heart ; but mine i& 
a good one. 

Chr. But how dost thou prove that ? 

Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 

Chr. That may be through its deceitfulness ; for a 
jvian's heart may minister comfort to him, in the hope* 
of that thing for which he has yet no ground to hope. 

Ignor. But my heart and life agree together ; and 
therefore my hope is well grounded. 

Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree 
together ? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. " Ask my fellow if I be a thief." Thy heart 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, tyj 

tells thee so ! Except the Word of God beareth wit- 
ness in this matter, other testimony is of no value. 

Ignor. But is it not a good heart that hath good 
thoughts ? and is not that a good life that is according 
to God's commandments ? 

Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good 
thoughts, and that is a good life that is according to 
God's commandments ; but it is one thing, indeed, to 
have these, and another thing only to think so. 

Ignor. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and 
life according to God's commandments ? 

Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds : 
some respecting ourselves, some God, some Christ, and 
some other things. 

Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting our 
selves ? 

Chr. Such as agree with the Word of God. 

Ignor. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree 
with the Word of God ? 

Chr. When we pass the same judgment upon oui'- 
selves which the Word passes. To explain myself: 
the Word of God saith of persons in a natural condi- 
tion, ** There is none righteous, there is none that doeth 
good." (Rom. 3 : 10.) It saith also, that " every imag- 
ination of the heart of a man is only evil, and that con- 
tinually." (Gen, 6:5.) And again, " The imagination 
of man's heart is evil from his youth." (Gen. 8 : 21.) 
Now, then, when we think thus of ourselves, having 
sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, because 
according to the Word of God. 

Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus 
bad. 

Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought 
concerning thyself in thy life. But let me go on. Am 
l^e Word passeth a judgment upon our ways ; and whea 



2^8 ^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

the thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with the 
judgment which the Word giveth of both, then are both 
good, because agreeing thereto. 

Ignor. Make out your meaning. 

Chr. Why, the Word of God saith, that "man's 
ways are crooked ways " (Psalm 125 : 5), " not good, but 
perverse." (Prov. 2 : 15.) It saith, they are naturally 
out of the good way, that they have not known it« 
(Rom. 3 : 12.) Now, when a man thus thinketb of his 
ways, I say, when he doth sensibly, and with heart- 
humiliation, thus think, then hath he good thoughts of 
his own ways, because his thoughts now agree with th« 
judgment of the Word of God. 

Ignor, What are good thoughts concerning God ? 

Chr. Even as I have said concerning ourselves, 
when our thoughts of God do agree with what the Word 
saith of him ; and that is, when we think of His being 
and attributes as the Word hath taught ; of which, I 
can not now discourse at large. But to speak of Him 
with reference to us : then have we right thoughts of 
God when we think that He knows us better than we 
know ourselves, and can see sin in us when and where 
we can see none in ourselves ; when we think he knows 
our inmost thoughts, and that our heart, with all its 
depths, is always open unto His eyes ; also, when we 
think that all our righteousness stinks in His nostrils, 
and that therefore He cannot abide to see us stand be« 
fore Him in any confidence, even in all our best per* 
formances. 

Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to 
think that God can see no farther than I ? or that I 
would come up to God in the best of my performances? 

Chr. Why, how dost thou think in this matter? 

Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in 
Christ for justification. 



THE P/LGRIAP S PROGRESS. 25^ 

Chr. How! Think thou must believe in Christ, 
when thou seest not thy need of him ! Thou neither 
seest thy original nor actual infirmities ; but hast such 
an opinion of thyself, and of what thou doest, as plainly 
renders thee to be one that did never see the necessity 
of Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee before 
orod. How, then, dost thou say, I believe in Christ ? 

Ignor. I believe well enough, for all that. 

Chr. How dost thou believe ? 

Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners i an^ 
that I shall be justified before God from the curse, 
through His gracious acceptance of my obedience to 
His laws. Or thus, Christ makes my duties, that are 
religious, acceptable to His Father, by virtue of His 
merits ; and so shall I be justified. 

Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of 
thy faith. 

1. Thou believest with a fantastical faith ; for this 
faith is nowhere described in the Word. 

2. Thou believest with a false faith; because it 
taketh justification from the ^^ersonal righteousness o* 
Christ, and applies it to thy own. 

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy 
person, but of thy actions ; and of thy person for thy 
action's sake, which is false. 

4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will 
leave thee under wrath in the day of God Almighty 
For true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its 
lost condition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto 
Christ's righteousness (which righteousness of His is 
not an act of grace, by which He maketh, for justifica- 
tion, thy obedience accepted with God, but His per- 
sonal obedience to the law, in doing and suffering for 
us, what that required at our hands). This righteous- 
ness, I say, true faith accepteth ; under the skirt ol 



^e THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

which thb ;30ul being shrouded, and by it presented as 
spotless before God, it is accepted, and acquitted from 
condemnation. 

Ignok. What ; Would 3-ou have us trust to what 
Christ in His own person has done without us ? This 
conceit would loosen the reins of our lust, and tolerate 
us to live as we list. For what matter how we live, it. 
we may be justified by Christ's personal righteousness 
from all, when we believe it ? 

Chr. Ignorance is thy n ime, and, as thy name is, 
BO art thou : even this thy answer demonstrateth what 
I say. Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteous- 
ness is, and as ignorant how to secure thy soul through 
the faith of it, from the heavy wrath of God. Yea» 
^hou also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith 
iin this righteousness of Christ, which is to bow and 
win over the heart to God in Christ, to love His name^ 
) lis Word, ways, and people ; and not as thou ignore 
s-ntly imaginest. 

Hope. Ask him, if ever he had Christ revealed to 
.»iim from heaven. 

Ignor. What ! You are a man for revelations ! I 
io believe, that what both you, and all the rest of you, 
bay about the matter, is but the fruit of distracted 
brains. 

Hope. Why, man, Christ is so hid in God from the 
natural apprehensions of the flesh, that He cannot by 
any man be savingly known, unless God the Father re- 
veals Him to him. 

Ignor. That is your faith, but not mine ; yet mine, 
I doubt not, is as good as yours, though I have not in 
my head so many whimsies as you. 

Chr. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought 
not so slightly to speak of this matter : for this I will 
boldly afl&rm, even as my good companion hath donct 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



241 



that no man can know Jesus Christ but by the revela- 
tion of the Father : yea, and faith, too, by which the 
soul layeth hold upon Christ (if it be right), must b« 
wrought by the exceeding greatness of His mighty 
power (Matt. 11: 27; 1. Cor. 12; 3; Eph. 1: 17-19) 5 
the working of which faith, I perceive, poor Ignorance, 
thou art ignorant of. Be awakened, then ; see thine 
Dwn wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus ; and \yf 
His righteousness, which is the righteousness of God 
(for He Himself is God), thou shalt be delivered from 
condemnation. 

Ignor. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with you. 
Do you go on before ; I must stay awhile behind. 
Then thej^ said,— 

** Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, 
To slight good counsel, ten times given thee? 
And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know, 
Ere long, the evil of thy doing so. 
Remember, man, in time ; stoop, do not fear ; 
Good counsel, taken well, saves ; therefore hear. 
But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee." 



THE TENTH STAGE. 



Then Christian addr<^ssed himself thus to his feU 
low: — 

Chr. Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive thafc 
thou and I must walk by ourselves again. 

So I saw, in my dream, that they went on apace 

before, and Ignorance he came hobbling after. Thea 

said Christian to his companion, I much pity this poor 

man ; it will certainly go ill with him at last. 

16 



,^43 ^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

I-IoPB. Alas ! there are abundance in our town in 
ftiis condition, whole families, yea, whole streets, and 
th»v of pilgrims, too ; and if there be so many in ou/ 
parcte, how many, think you, must there be in the placd 
wliere he was born ? 

Chb. Indeed, the Word saith, " He hath blinded 
t*heir eyes, lest they should see," &c. But, now we 
are by ourselves, what do you think of such men? 
Have they at no time, think you, convictions of sin, 
and so, consequently, fears that their state is danger, 
ous? 

Hope. Nay, do you answer that question yourself, 
for you are the elder man. 

Cnn. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may; 
but they, being naturally ignorant, understand not that 
such convictions tend to their good; and therefore 
they do desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptU' 
ously continue to flatter themselves in the way of theii 
own hearts. 

Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends 
much to men's good, and to make them right at theii 
beginning to go on pilgrimage. 

Chr. Without all doubt it doth, if he be right ; foi 
so says the Word, " The fear of the Lord is the begin* 
ning of wisdom." (Job 28 : 28; Psalm 111 : 10 <• Prov. 
1 : 7 ; and 9 : 10.) 

Hope. How will you describe right feai* ? 

Chr. True or right fear is discovered by three 
things : — 

1. By its rise ; it is caused by saving convictions of 
sin. 

2. It driveth the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for 
salvation. 

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great 
reverence of God, His Word, and way»', keeping it 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 243 

tender, and making it afraid to turn from them, to the 
right hand or to the left, to any thing that may dis- 
honor God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause 
the enemy to speak reproachfully. 

Hope. Well said ; I believe you have said the 
truth. Are we now almost got past the Enchantea 
Ground ? 

Chk. Why ? Are you weary of this discourse ? 

Hope. No, verily ; but that I would know where 
we are. 

Chr. We have not now above two miles farther to 
go thereon. But let us return to our matter. Now, 
the ignorant know not that such convictions as tend 
to put them in fear, are for their good, and therefore 
they seek to stifle them. 

Hope. How do they seek to stifle them ? 

Chf 1. They think that those fears are wrought 
by the devil (though, indeed, they are wrought of God), 
and, thinking so, they resist them, as things that di« 
Kjctly tend to their overthrow. 2. They also think 
tliat these fears tend to the spoiling of their faith ; 
when, alas for them, poor men that they are, they hava 
none at all ; and therefore they harden their hearts 
against them. 3. They presume they ought not to 
feaBj and therefore, in spite of them, wax presumptu* 
ously confident. 4. They see that those fears tend to 
take away from them their pitiful old self-holiness, and 
therefore they resist them with all their might. 

Hope. I know something of this myself ; for before 
I knew myself it was so with me. 

Chr. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbou 
Ignorance by himself, and fall upon another profitable; 
question. 

Hope. With all my heart ; but you shall still begin^ 

Chr. Well, then, did you know, about ten yean 



244 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 



ago, one Xemporary in your parts, who was a forward 
man in religion, then? 

Hope. Know him ! yes ; he dwelt in Graceless, a 
town about two miles off Honesty, and he dwelt next 
door to one Turnback. 

Chr. Right ; he dwelt under the same roof witk 
him. Well, that man was much awakened once. I 
believe that then he had some sight of his sins, and of 
the wages that were due thereto. 

Hope. I am of your mind, for (my house not being 
above three miles from him) he would ofttimes come to 
me, and that with many tears. Truly, I pitied the man, 
and was not altogether without hope of him ; but 
one may see it is not every one that cries, *' Lord,, 
Lord ! " 

Chr. He told me once that he was resolved to go 
on a pilgrimage, as we go now ; but all of a suaden he 
grew acquainted with one Saveself, and then he became 
a stranger to me. 

Hope. Now, since we are talking about him, let ua 
a little inquire into the reason of the sudden backslid 
ing of him and such others. 

Chr. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin. 

Hope. Well then, there are, in my judgment, fouf 
reasons for it : — 

1. Though the consciences of such men are awak- 
ened, yet their minds are not changed ; therefore, when 
the power of guilt weareth away, that which provoketh 
them to be religious ceaseth. Wherefoi'e they natur- 
ally turn to their old course again ; even as we see the 
dog that is sick of what he hath eaten, so long as his 
sickness prevails, he vomits and casts up all ; not that 
he doth this of a free mind (if we may say a dog has a 
mind), but because it troubleth his stomach. But now, 
when his sickness is over, and so hi» stomach eased. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 245 

his desires being not at all alienated from his vomit, 
he turns him about, and licks up all. And so it is true 
which is written, " The dog is turned to his own vomit 
again." (2 Pet. 2 : 22.) Thus, I say, being hot for 
heaven, by virtue only of the sense and fear of the tor- 
ments of hell, as their sense of hell and fear of damna- 
tion chills and cools, so their desires for heaven and 
salvation cool also. So then it comes to pass, .that 
when their guilt and fear is gone, their desires for 
heaven and happiness die, and they return to their 
course again. 

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that da 
overmaster them. I speak now of the fears that they 
have of men ; " For the fear of man bringeth a snare." 

Prov. 29 : 25.) So then, though they seem to be hot 
for heaven so long as the flames of hell are about their 
ears, yet, when that terror is a little over, they betake 
themselves to second thoughts, namely, that it is good 
to be wise and not to run (for they know not what) the 
hazard of losing all, or, at least, of bringing themselves 
into unavoidable and unnecessary troubles ; and so 
they fall in with the world again. 

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a 
block in their way ; they are proud and haughty, and. 
religion in their eye is low and contemptible ; there- 
fore, when they have lost their sense of hell and the 
wrath to come, they return again to their former 
course. 

4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to 
them ; they like not to see their misery before they 
come into it ; though perhaps the sight of it at first, if 
they loved that sight, might make them fl' whither 
the righteous run and are safe. But because chey do, 
as I hinted before, ever shun the thoughts of guilt and 
terror, therefore, when once they are rid of their awak- 



246 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

enings about the terrors and wrath of God, they harden 
their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will hardea 
them more and more. 

Chr You are pretty near the business ; for the 
bottom of all is for want of a change in their mind and 
will. And therefore they are but like the felon that 
standeth before the judge : he quakes and trembles, 
and seems to repent most heartily, but the bottom of 
all is the fear of a halter ; not that he hath any detesta- 
lion of the offence, as is evident ; because, let but this 
man have his liberty, and he will be a thief, and so a 
rogue still , whereas, if his mind was changed, he would 
be otherwise. 

Hope. Now I have showed you the reason of their 
going back, do you show me the manner thereof. 

Chr. So I will, willingly. 

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, 
from the remembrance of God, death, and judgment to 
come. 

2. Then they cast off by degrees private dutiesv as 
closet prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for 
sin, and the like. 

3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm 
Christians. 

4. After that, they grow cold to public duty, as 
hearing, reading, godly conference, and the like. 

5. They then begin to pick holes, as we say, in the 
coats of some of the godly, and that devilishly, that 
they may have a seeming color to throw religion (for 
the sake of some infirmities they have espied in them) 
behind their backs. 

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and associate 
themselves with, carnal, loose, and wanton men. 

7. Then they give way to carnal and wanton dis- 
courses in secret , and glad are they if they can see 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



247 



such things in any that are counted honest, that they 
may the more boldly do it through their example. 

8. After this they begin to play with little sins 
openly. 

9o And then, being hardened, they show themselves 
as they are. Thus, being launched again into the gulf 
of misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they 
everlastingly perish in their own deceivings. 

Now I saw; in my dream, that by this time the pil- 
grims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and enter- 
ing into the country of Bculah (Isa. 62: 4-12), whose 
air was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly 
through it, they solaced themselves there for a season . 
Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds, 
and saAv every day the flowers appear in the earth, and 
heard the voice of the turtle in the land. (Song 2 : 
10-12.) In this country the sun shineth night anl 
day : wherefore this w^as beyond the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant 
Despair ; neither could they from this place so mucti 
as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within sight 
of the city they were going to ; also here met them 
some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the 
Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was upon 
the borders of heaven. In this land, also, the con- 
tract between the bride and the bridegroom was re- 
newed ; yea, here, " as the bridegroom rejoiceth over 
the bride, so doth God rejoice over them." (Isa. 62 : 5.) 
Here they had no want of corn and wine ; for in this 
place they met with abundance of what they had sought 
for in all their pilgrimage. (Isa. 62 : 8, 9.) Here they 
heard voices from out of the city ; loud voices, saying, 
" Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation 
Cometh ! Behold, his reward is with him ! " (Isa. 62 : 11, 
12.) Here all the inhabitants of the country called 



248 ^^^ PILGRTM*S PROGRESS. 

them " the holy people, the redeemed of the Lord, 
sought out," &c. 

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more re- 
joicing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to 
which they wore bound ; and drawing near to the city, 
they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was 
builded of pearls and precious stones, also the streets 
thereof were paved with gold ; so that, by reason of 
the natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the 
eunbeams upon it. Christian with desire fell sick. 
Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease. 
Wherefore here they lay by it a while, crying out, be^ 
cause of their pangs, " If you see my Beloved, tell Him 
that I am sick of love." 

But being a little strengthened, and better able to 
bear their sickness, they walked on their way, ai'd 
came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vine- 
yards, and gardens, and their gates opened into the 
highway. Now, as they came up to these places, brj- 
hold, the gardener stood in the way ; to whom the pil- 
grims said. Whose goodly vineyards and gardens aie 
these ? He answered, They are the King's, and a>e 
planted here for His own delight, and also for the 
solace of pilgrims. So the gardener had them into the 
vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the 
dainties (Deut. 23 : 24) ; he also showed them there the 
King's walks and arbors, where he delighted to be. 
And here they tarried and slept. 

Now I beheld, in my dream, that they talked more 
in their sleep at this time than ever they did in all 
their journey ; and, being in a muse thereabout, the 
gardener said even to me. Wherefore museth thou at 
the matter ? it is the nature of the fruit of the grapes 
of these vineyards, " to go down so sweetly as to cause 
the lips of them that are asleep to speak." (Song 7 : 9.) 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 249 

§0 I saw that, when they awoke, they addressed 
themselves to go up to the city. But, as I said, the re« 
flection of the sun upon the city — for the city was pure 
gold (Rev. 21 : 18), — was so extremely glorious, that 
they could not as yet with open face behold it, but 
through an instrument made for that purpose. (2 Cor. 
8: 18.) So I saw that as they went on there met them 
iwo men in raiment that shone like gold, also theit 
faces shone as the light. 

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came j 
and they told them. They also asked them where they 
had lodged, what difiiculties and dangers, what com- 
forts and pleasures, they had met with in the way; 
and they told them. Then said the men that met 
them. You have but two difficulties more to meet with, 
and then you are in the city. 

Christian then, and his companion, asked the men 
to go along with them : so they told them that they 
would ; But, said they, you must obtain it by your own 
faith. So I saw, in my dream, that they went on to- 
gether till they came in sight of the gacc. 

Now I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate 
was a river; but there was no bridge to go over, and 
the river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of 
this river, the pilgrims were much stunned; but the 
men that went with them said. You must go through, 
or you cannot come at the gate. 

The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no 
Other way to the gate. To which they answered. Yes, 
but there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and 
Elijah, been permitted to tread that path since the 
foundation of the world, nor shall until the last trumpet 
shall sound. The pilgrims then, especially Christian, 
began to despond in their mind, and looked this way 
and that, but no way could be found by them by which 



9^0 3^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

they might escape the river. Then they asked tlifl 
men if the waters were all of a depth. They said, No ; 
yet they could not help them in that case ; for, said 
they, you shall find it deeper or shallower as you believe 
in the King of the place. 

Then they addressed themselves to the water, and 
entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out to 
his good friend Hopeful, he said, " I sink in deep 
waters ; the billows go over my head ; all His waves go 
over me." Selah. 

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother • 
I feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, 
Ah, my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed 
me about, I shall not see the land that flows with milk 
and honey. And with that a great darkness and horror 
fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. 
Also here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that 
he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any o{ 
those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the 
way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spoke 
still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and 
heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never 
obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that 
stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome 
thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since 
and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also ob- 
served that he was troubled with apparitions of hob- 
goblins and evil spirits ; for, ever and anon he would 
intimate so much by words. 

Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his 
brother's head above water ; yea, sometimes he would 
be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would 
rise up again half dead. Hopeful did also endeavor to 
comfort him, saving, Brother, I see the gate, and men 
funding by to receive us. But Christian would answeri 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, ^^^1 

Ft is you, it is you they wait for ; for you have been 
hopeful ever since I knew you. And so have you, said 
he to Christian. Ah, brother (said he), surely if I was 
right He would now arise to help me ; but for my sins 
He hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me. 
Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgot 
the text, where it is said of the wicked, '^ There are n<j 
bands in their death, but their strength is firm ; the;^ 
are not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued 
like other men." (Psalm 73 ; 4, 5.) These troubles and 
distresses that you go through in these waters, are no 
sign that God hath forsaken you ; but are sent to try 
you, whether you will call to mind that which hereto- 
fore you have received of His goodness, and live upon 
Him in your distresses. 

Then I saw, in my dream, that Christian was in a 
muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added these 
words. Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee 
whole. And with that Christian brake out with a loud 
voice. Oh, I see Him again , and He tells me, " When 
thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee-, 
and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." 
(Isa. 43 : 2.) Then they both took courage, and the 
enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they were 
gone over. Christian, therefore, presently found ground 
to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the 
dver was but shallow. Thus they got over. 

Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side^ 
they saw the two shining men again, who there waited 
for them. Wherefore, being come out of the river, 
they saluted them, saying. We are ministering spirits, 
sent forth to minister to those that shall be the heirs of 
salvation. Thus they went along towards the gate. 

Now you must note, that the city stood upon a 
mighty hill ; but the pilgrims went up that hill w /J 



2^2 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

ijase, because they had these two men to lead them up 
by the arms : they had likewise left their mortal gar- 
ments behind them in the river ; for though they went 
in with them, they came out without them. They 
therefore went up here with much agility and speed, 
though the foundation upon which the city was framed 
was higher than the clouds ; they therefore went up 
through the region of the air, sweetly talking as thej 
went, being comforted because they safely got over the 
river, and had such glorious companions to attend them. 
The talk that they had with the shining ones was 
about the glory of the place ; who told them that the 
beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said 
they, is " Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the in- 
numerable company of angels, and the spirits of just 
men made perfect." (Heb. 12 : 22-24.) You are going 
now, said they, to the paradise of God, wherein you 
shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never-fading 
fruits thereof : and when you come there you shall have 
white robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be 
every day with the King, even all the days of eternity. 
(Rev. 2:7; 3 : 4, 5 ; 22 : 5.) There you shall not see 
again such things as you saw when 3^ou were in the 
lower region upon earth : to wit, sorrow, sickness, af- 
fliction, and death : " For the former things are passed 
away." (Rev. 21 : 4.) You are going now to Abraham, 
to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the prophets, men that God 
hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are 
now " resting upon their beds, each one walking in his 
righteousness." The men then asked, What must we 
do in the holy place ? To whom it was answered, You 
must there receive the comfort of all your toil, and have 
joy for all your sorrow ; you must reap what you have 
sown, even the fruit of all your prayers, and tears, and 
Bufferings for the King by the way. (Gal. 6 : 7, 8.) In 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



253 



tbat place you must wear crowns of gold, and enjoy the 
perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One ; for " there 
you shall see Him as He is." (1 John, 3 : 2.) There 
also you shall serve him continually with praise, with 
Bhouting and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve 
in the world, though with much difficulty, because of 
the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes shall be 
delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the 
pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall 
enjoy your friends again that are gone thither before 
you ; and there you shall with joy receive even every 
one that follows into the holy place after you. There 
also you will be clothed with glory and majesty, and 
put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of 
Glory. When He shall come with sound of trumpet 
i)Q the clouds, as upon the wings of the wind, you shall 
come with Him ; and when He shall sit upon the throne 
o*^ judgment, you shall sit by Him ; yea, and when He 
sliall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let 
tl^em be angels or men, you also shall have a voice in 
tliat judgment, because they were His and your ene- 
D/ies. Also, when He shall again return to the city, 
you shall go too with sound of trumpet, and be ever 
with Him. (1 Thess. 4: 14-17; Jude 14: 15; Dan. 
7:9,10; ICor. 6: 2,8.) 

Now, while they were thus drawing towards the 
gate, behold, a company of the heavenly host came out 
to meet them : to whom it was said by the other two 
shining ones, These are the men that have loved our 
Lord when they were in the world, and that have 
Vft all for His holy name ; and He hath sent us to 
ifetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their 
desired journey, that they may go in and look their Re- 
deemer in the face with joy. Then the heavenly host 
gave a great shout, saying, " Blessed are they that are 



$54 ^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb.** (Rev. 
19: 9.) There came out also at this time to meet them 
several of the King's trumpters, clothed in white and 
shining raiment, who, with melodious noises and loud, 
made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These 
trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten 
thousand welcomes from the world ; and this they did 
with shouting and sound of trumpet. 

This done, they compassed them round on every 
side; some went before, some behind, and tr«ome on the 
right hand, and some on the left (as it were to guard 
them through the upper regions), continually sounding 
as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high ; 
so that the very sight was to them that could behold it 
as if heaven itself was come down to meet them. Thus, 
therefore, they walked on together ; and, as they 
walked, ever and anon these trumpters, even with joyful 
Bound, would, by mixing their music with looks and 
gestures, still signify to Christian and his brocher how 
welcome they were into their company, and with what 
gladness they came to meet them. And now were these 
two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came to it, 
being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with 
hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had 
the city itself in view : and they thought they heard 
all the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto. 
But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they 
had about their own dwelling there with such company, 
and that forever and ever ; oh, by what tongue or pen 
can their glorious joy be expressed ! Thus they came 
up to the gate. 

Now when they were come up to the gate, there 
was written over it, in letters of gold, 

•* BLESSED ARE THEY THAT DO HIS COMMANDMENTSL 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



255 



THAT THEY MAY HAVE KIGHT TO THE TEEE OP 
LIFE, AND MAY ENTER IN THEOUGH THE GATES 
INTO THE CITY." 

Then I saw, in my dream, that the shining men bid 
them call at the gate ; the which when they did, some 
from above looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, Moses, 
and Elijah, &c., to whom it was said, These pilgrims 
are come from the City of Destruction, for the love that 
they bear to the King of this place : and then the pil- 
grims gave in unto them each man his certificate, which 
they had received in the beginning. Those, therefore, 
were carried in unto the King, who, when He had read 
them, said, Where are the men ? To whom it was an- 
swered, They are standing without the gate. The 
King then commanded to open the gate, " That the 
righteous nation (said He) that keepeth the truth may 
enter in." (Isa. 26 : 2.) 

Now I saw, in my dream, that these two men went 
in at the gate ; and lo, as they entered, they were 
transfigured ; and they had raiment put on that shone 
like gold. There were also that met them with harps 
and crowns, and gave them to them ; the harps to 
praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then 
I heard in my dream, that all the bells in the city rang 
again for joy, and that it was said unto them, 

" ENTER YE INTO THE JOY OF OUR LORD." 

I also heard the men themselves sing with a loud voice> 
saying, 

" BLESSING, AND HONOR, AND GLORY, AND POWER, BE 
UNTO HIM THAT SITTETH UPON THE THRONE, AND 
UNTO THE LAMB, FOR EVER AND EVER." 



2^6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in th« 
men, I looked in after them, and behold, the city shone 
like the sun ; the streets also were paved with gold ; 
and in them walked many men, with crowns on their 
heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps, to sing 
praises withal. 

There were also of them that had wings, and they 
answered one another without intermission, saying, 
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord. And after that they shut 
up the gates ; which, when I had seen, I wished myself 
among them. 

Now, while I was gazing upon all these things, I 
turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance come 
up to the river side ; but he soon got over, and that 
without half the difficulty which the other two men 
met with. For it happened that there was then in that 
place one Vainhope, a ferryman, that with his boat 
Jielped him over ; so he, as the other I saw, did ascend 
the hill, to come up to the gate ; only he came alone, 
rieither did any man meet him with the least encour- 
agement. When he was come up to the gate, he looked 
u p to the writing that was above, and then began to 
tnock, supposing that entrance should have been 
q aickly administered to him : but he was asked by the 
men that looked over the top of the gate. Whence come 
you ? and what would you have ? He answered, I have 
ate and drank in the presence of the King, and he has 
taught in our streets. Then they asked him for his cer- 
tificate, that they might go in and show it to the King. 
So he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. 
Then said they, Have you none? But the man an- 
swered never a word. So they told the King, but He 
would not come down to see him, but commanded the 
two shining ones, that conducted Christian and Hope* 
ful to the city, to go out and take Ignorance, and bind 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, «^^ 

Mm hand and foot, and have him away. Then they 
took him up, and carried him through the air to the 
door that I saw in the side of the hill, and put him in 
there. Then I saw that there was a way to hell, even 
from the gate of heaven, as well as from the city of De^ 
Struction. So I awoke, and behold, it was a dreanu 



85^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 



CONCLUSION. 



Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee 

See if thou canst interpret it to me, 

Or to thyself, or neighbor : but take heed 

Of misinterpreting ; for that, instead 

Of doing good, will but thyself abuse : 

By misinterpreting, evil ensues. 

Take heed, also, that thou be not extreme 

In playing with the outside of my dream ; 

Nor let my figure or similitude 

Put thee into a laughter, or a feua. 

Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee. 

Do thou the substance of my matter see 

Put by the curtains, look within the veil, 

Turn up my metaphora, and do not fail. 

There, if thou seekest them, such things thou'h fiixkil 

As will be helpful to an honest mind. 

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold 

To throw away, but yet preserve the gold. 

What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ? 

None throw away the apple for the core ; 

But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, 

I know not but 'twill make me dream again* 



THl 

AUTHOR'S WAY 

OF 

SENDING FORTH HIS SECOND PART 

OF 

THE PILGRIM. 



Go, now, my little Book, to every place 
Where my first pilgrim has but shown his face: 
Call at their door : if any say, " Who's there?" 
Then answer thou, " Christiana is here." 
If they bid thee come in, then enter thou, 
With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how. 
Tell who they are, also from whence they came ; 
Perhaps they'll know them by their looks, or names 
But if they should not, ask them yet again, 
U formerly they did not entertain 
One Christian, a Pilgrim. If they say 
They did, and were delighted in his way, 
Then let them know that these related were 
Unto him ; yea, his wife and children are. 

Tell them that they have left their house and homci 
Are turned Pilgrims ; seek a world to come ; 
That they have met with hardships in the way ; 
!P*bat they dp meet with troubles aight and day 



25o '^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

That they have trod on serpents ; fought with devils^ 

Have also overcome a many evils : 

Yea, tell them also of the next who have, 

Of love of pilgrimage, been stout and brave 

Defenders of that way ; and how they still 

Refuse this world to do their Father's wilL 

Go tell them also oi those dainty things 

That Pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings. 

Let them acquainted be, too, how they are 

Beloved of their King, under his care ; 

What goodly mansions He ''* them provides ; 

Though they meet with rou^ grinds and swellingtide% 

How brave a calm they will enjoy at last, 

Who to their Lord, and by His ways hold fast. 

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace 
Thee, as they did my firstling ; and will gracx. 
Thee and thy fellows with such cheer and fare, 
As show well they of Pilgrims lovers are. 

FIRST OBJECTION. 

But how if they will not believe of me 
That I am truly thine ? 'Cause some there be 
That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name ; 
Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same ; 
And by that means have wrought themselves into 
The hands and houses of I know not who. 

ANSWER. 

'Tis true, some have, of late, to counterfeit 
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set j 
Yea, others half my name, and title toO; 
Have stitched to their books, to make them do# 
But yet they, by their features, do declare 
Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are. 

If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way 
Before them all, is, to say out thy say 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

In thine own native language, which no man 
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. 

If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, 
Thinking that you, like gypsies, go about, 
In naughty wise the country to deiile ; 
Or that you seek good people to beguile 
With things unwarrantable, send for me 
And I will testify you Pilgrims be ; 
Yea, I will testify that only you 
My Pilgrims are, and that alone will da, 

SECOND OBJECTION. 

But yet, perhaps I may inquire for him 
Of those who wish him damned life and limb. 
What shall I do, when I at such a door 
For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more? 

ANSWER. 

Fright not thyself, my Book, for such bugbearS 
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fearS. 
My Pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land. 
Yet could I never come to understand 
That it was slighted or turned out of door 
By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 

In France and Flanders, where men kill each other. 
My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother. 
In Holland, too, 'tib said, as I am told, 
My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold. 
Highlanders and wild Irish can agree: 
My Pilgrim should familiar with tnem be. 

'Tis in New England under such advance, 
Receives there so much loving countenance. 
As to be triram'd, new cloth'd, and deck'd with genKSg 
That it might show its features, and its limbs. 
Yet more : so comely doth my Pilgrim walk. 
That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 



262 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

If you draw nearer home, it will appear 
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear : 
City and country will him entertain 
With Welcome, Pilgrim ; yea, they can't refrain 
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by, 
Or shows his head in any company. 

Brave gallants, do my Pilgrim hug and love» 
Esteem it much, yea, value it above 
Things of a greater bulk ; yea, with delight 
Say my lark's leg is better than a kite. 
Young ladies, and young gentlewomen too, 
Do not small kindness to my Pilgrim show : 
Their cabinets, their bosoms, aad their hearts, 
Hy Pilgrim has ; 'cause he to them imparts 
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains 
As yield them profit double to their pains 
Of reading ; yea, I think I may be bold 
To say some prize him far above their gold. 
The very children that do walk the street, 
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet, 
Salute him well ; will wish him well, and say 
He is the only stripling of the day. 

They that have never seen him, yet admire 
What they have heard of him, and much desir© 
To have his company, and hear him tell 
Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so welL 

Yea, some who did not love him at the first, 
But call'd him fool and noddy, say they must, 
Now they have seen and heard him, him commendi 
And to those whom they love they do him send. 

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not btf 
Afraid to show thy head : none can hurt thee, 
That wish but well to him that went before; 
H)ause tboa eom'st after with a second store 



THE PILGRIM*S PROGRESS. 

Of things as good, as rich, as profitable. 

For young, for old, for staggering, and for stable. 

THIRD OBJECTION. 

But some there be that say, he laughs too loud ; 
And some do say, his head is in a cloud. 
Some say, his words and stories are so dark. 
They know not how, by them, to find his mark, 

ANSWER. 

One may, I think, say, Both his laughs and cries 
May well be guessed at by his wat'ry eyes. 
Some things are of that nature, as to make 
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache. 
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, 
He did at the same time both kiss and weep. 

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head ; 
That doth but show his wisdom's covered 
With its own mantle. And to stir the mind 
To search well after what it fain would find, 
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure 
Do but the godly mind the more allure 
To study what those sayings should contain. 
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain. 
I also know a dark similitude 
Will on the fancy more itself intrude. 
And will stick faster in the heart and head, 
Than things from similies not borrowed. 

Wherefore, my Book, let no discouragement 
Hinder thy travels. Behold, thou art sent 
To friends, not foes ; to friends that will give placf 
To thee, thy Pilgrims, and thy words embrace. 

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd, 
Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd ; 
What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way, 
Sweet Christiana opens with her key. 



|6i|t THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

FOURTH OBJECTION". 

But some love not the method of your first s 
Romance they count it ; throw't away as dust. 
If I should meet with such, what should I say ? 
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay ? 

ANSWER. 

My Christiana, if with such thou meet, 
By all means, in all loving wise them greet; 
Render them not reviling for revile ; 
But, if they frown, I prithee on them smile: 
Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report, 
Has made them thus despise, or thus retort. 

Some love no fish, some love no cheese, and some 
Love not their friends, nor their own house or h^^mef 
Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl 
More than they love a cuckoo or an owl. 
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice. 
And seek those who to find thee will rejoice. 
By no means strive, but, in most humble wise, 
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. 

Go then, my little Book, and show to all 
That entertain and bid thee welcome shall, 
What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest ; 
And wish what thou shalt show them may be bless'* 
To theni for good, and make them choose to be 
Pilgrims, by better far than thee or me. 
&o, then, I say, tell all men who thou art : 
Say, I am Christiana ; and my part 
Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what 
It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot. 

Go, also, tell them who and what they be 
That now do go on a pilgrimage with thee ; 
Say, Here's my neighbor Mercy ; she is one 
That has long time with me a Pilgrim gone ; 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 96^ 

CV)me, see her in her virgin face, and leani 
Twixt idle ones and Pilgrims to discern. 
Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize 
The world which is to come, in any wise. 
When little tripping maidens follow God, 
And leave old doting sinners to His rod, 
'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried 
Hosannah ! to whom old ones did deride. 

Kext tell them of old Honest, whom you found 
With his white hairs treading the Pilgrim's ground ' 
Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was ; 
How after his good Lord he bare the cross. 
Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail 
With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 

Tell them, also, how Master Fearing went 
On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
In solitariness, with fears and cries ; 
And how, at last, he won the joyful prize. 
He was a good man, though much down in spiritf 
He is a good man, and doth life inherit. 

Tell them of Master Feebleraind, also, 
Who not before, but still behind would go. 
Show them, also, how he had like been slain, 
And how one Greatheart did his life regain. 
This man was true of heart, though weak in grace ; 
One mighii true godliness read in his face. 

Then tell them of Master Readytohalt, 
A man with crutches, but much without fault. 
Tell them how Master Feeblemind and he 
Did love, and in opinions much agree. 
And let all know, though weakness was their chance^ 
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-Truth, 
That man of courage, though a very youth % 



§66 THE PILGXTAPS PROGRESS. 

Tell every one his spirit was so stout, 
No man could ever make him face about. 
And how Greatheart and he could not forbear. 
But pull down Doubting Castle, slay Despair 1 

Overlook not Master Despondency, 
Nor Muchafraid, his daughter, though they lie 
Under such mantles, as may make them look 
(With some) as if their God had them forsook. 
They softly went, but sure ; and, at the end. 
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend. 

When thou hast told the world of all these things 
Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings^ 
Which, if but touched, will such music make, 
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. 

Those riddles that lie couch'd within thy breasU 
Freely propound, expound ; and for the rest 
Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 
For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain* 

Now may this little Book a blessing be 
To those who love this little Book and me; 
And may its buyer have no cause to say 
His money is but lost or thrown away. 
Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit 
As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit ; 
And may it some persuade, that go astray, 
To turn their feet and heart to the right way, 
Is the hearty prayer of 

The Author, 

JOHN BUNYAK 



THE 

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



PART n. 

CouKTEous Companions: 

Some time since, to tell you my dream that I had 
of Christian the pilgrim, and of his dangerous journej' 
towards the Celestial Country, was pleasant to me, and 
profitable to you. I told joii then also what I saw 
concerning his wife and ehildren, and how unwilling 
they were to go with him on pilgrimage ; insomuch that 
he was forced to go on his progress without them ; for 
he durst not run the danger of that destruction which 
he feared would come by staying with them in the city 
of Destruction^ Wherefore, as 1 then showed you, he 
left them and departed. 

Now it hath so happened, through the multiplicity 
©f business, that I have been much hindered and kept 
back from my wonted travels into those parts whence 
he went, and so could not, till now, obtain an opportu- 
nity to make further inquiry after those whom he left 
behind, that I might give you an account of them. But 
having had some concerns that way of late, I went 
down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my 
lodging in a wood about a mile off the place, as I slep^ 
I dreamed agaio. ^6^ 



268 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

And as I was in my dream, behold, an aged gentW 
man came bj where I lay ; and, because he was to go 
some part of the way that I was traveling, methought 
1 got up and went with him. So, as we walked, and 
as travellers usually dc, I was as if we fell into a dis^ 
course ; and our talk happened to be about Christian 
^nd his travels ; for thus I began with the old man : — ' 

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth 
on the left hand of our way? 

Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name). It is 
the city of Destruction, a populous place, but possessed 
with a very ill-conditioned and idle set of people. 

I thought that was the city, quoth I ; I went onoe 
myself through that town, and therefore know that this 
report you give of it is true. 

Sag. Too true ! I wish I could speak truth in 
speaking better of them that dwell therein. 

Well, sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well- 
meaning man, and so one that takes pleasure to hear 
and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never 
hear what happened to a man some time ago of this 
town (whose name was Christian), that went ou a 
pilgrimage up towards the higher regions ? 

Sag. Hear of him! Ay, and I also heard of the 
molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, 
frights and fears that he met with and had on his jour- 
ney. Besides, I must tell you, all our country rings of 
Mm ; there are but few houses that have heard of him 
ajid of his doings, but have sought after and got the 
records of his pilgrimage ; yea, i think I may say that 
his hazardous journey has got many well-wishers to his 
ways ; for, though when he was here he was fool in 
every man's mouth, yet now he is gone he is highly 
commended of all. For 'tis said he lives bravely where 
he is : yea, many of them that are resolved never *» 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 26^ 

run his hazards, yet have their mouths water at his 
gains. 

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think any 
thing that is true, that he liveth well where he is ; for 
he now lives at, and in the fountain of life, and haa 
what he has without labor and sorrow, for there is no 
grief mixed therewith. But pray, what talk have the 
people about him ? 

Sag. Talk ! The people talk strangely about him. 
Some say that he now walks in white (Rev. 3:4); that 
he has a chain of gold about his neck ; that he has a 
crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head. Others 
say, that the shining ones, who sometimes showed themr 
selves to him in his journey, are become his compan- 
ions, and that he is as familiar with them where he is, 
as here one neighbor is with another. Besides, it is 
confidently affirmed concerning him, that the King of 
tue place where he is, has bestowed upon him already 
a very rich and pleasant dwelling at court ; and that 
be every day eateth and drinketh, and walketh and 
t^ilketh with Him, and receiveth of the smiles and 
fftvors of Him that is Judge of all there. (Zech. 3:7; 
Luke 14 : 14, 15.) Moreover, it is expected of some, 
that his Prince, the Lord of that countoy, will shortly 
come into these parts, and will know the reason, if they 
can give any, why his neighbors set so little by him, 
and had him so much in derision, when they perceived 
that he would be a pilgrim. (Jude, 14, 15.) For they 
say, that now he is so in the affections of his Prince, 
that his Sovereign is so much concerned with the in- 
dignities that were cast upon Christian when he became 
a pilgrim, that he will look upon all as if done unto 
Himaelf (Luke 10 1 16) i and no marvel, for it was for 
the love that he had to his Prince that he ventured as 
he did. 



«70 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

I dare say, quoth I ; I am glad on't : I am glad foi 
the poor man's sake, for that now he has rest from his 
labor, and for that he now reapeth the benefit of his 
tears with joy ; and for that he has got beyond the gun- 
shot of his enemies, and is out of the reach of them 
that hate him. (Rev. 14: 13; Psalm 126: 5, 6.) I 
also am glad for that a rumor of these things is noised 
abroad in this country ; who can tell but that it may 
work some good effect on some that are left behind ? 
But pray, sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you hear 
anything of his wife and children? Poor hearts! I 
wonder in my mind what they do. 

Sag. Who ? Christiana and her sons ? They are 
like to do as well as Christian did himself ; for though 
they all played the fool at first, and would by no means 
be persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Chris- 
tian, yet second thoughts have wTought wonderfully 
with them : so they have packed up, and are also gone 
after him. 

Better and better, quoth I : but, what ! wife and 
children, and all ? 

Sag. It is true : I can give you an account of the 
matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was 
thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. 

Then, said I, a man, it seems, may report it for a 
truth. 

Sag. You need not fear to affirm it : I mean, that 
they are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman 
and her four boys. And being we are, as I perceive, 
going some considerable way together, I will give you 
an account of the whole matter. 

This Christiana (for that was her name from the 
day that she with her children betook themselves to a 
pilgrim's life), after her husband was gone over the 
tiver, and she could hear of him no more, her thoughts 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 27I 

began to work in her mind. First, for that she had lost 
her husband, and for that the loving bond of that rela- 
tion was utterly broken betwixt them. For you know, 
said he to me, nature can do no less but entertain thi 
living with many a heavy cogitation, in the remem- 
brance of the loss of loving relations. This, therefore, 
of her husband did cost her many a tear. But this was 
not all ; for Christiana did also begin to consider with 
herself, whether her unbecoming behavior towards her 
husband was not one cause that she saw him no more, 
and that in such sort he was taken awav from her. 
And upon this came into her mind, by swarms, all her 
unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriage to her dear 
friend; which also clogged her conscience, and did 
load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much broken 
ivith recalling to remembrance the restless groans, 
brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her husband, and 
how she did harden her heart against all his entreaties 
£-nd loving persuasions of her and her sons to go with 
him; yea, there was not anything that Christian eithei 
said to her, or did before her, all the while that his 
burden did hang on his back, but it returned upon her 
like a flash of lightning, and rent the caul of her heart 
in sunder ; especially that bitter outcry of his, " What 
shall I do to be saved ?" did ring in her ears most dole- 
fully. 

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all un- 
done. I have sinned away youi father, and he is gone : 
he would have had us with him, but I would not go 
myself: I also have hindered you of life. With that 
the boys fell into tears, and cried out to go after their 
father. Oh, said Christiana, that it had been but our lot 
to go with him ! then had it fared well with us, beyond 
what it is like to do now. For, though I formerly 
foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles of youx 



2^2 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. ^ 

father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy that ha 
had, or for that he was overrun with melancholy hu- 
mors ; yet now it will not out of mind, but that they 
sprang from another cause ; to wit, for that the light 
of life was given him (James 1 : 23-25 ; John 8 : 12) ; 
by the help of which, as I perceive, he has escaped the 
snares of death. (Prov. 14 : 27.) Then they all wept 
again, and cried out. Oh, woe worth the day ! 

The next night Christiana had a dream ; and, be- 
hold, she saw as if a broad parchment was opened be- 
fore her, in which were recorded the sum of her ways; 
and the crimes, as she thought, looked very black upon 
her. Then she cried out aloud in her sleep, " Lord, 
have mercy upon me a sinner ! " (Luke 18 ; 12) ; and 
the little children heard her. 

After this she thought she saw two very ill favored 
Dues standing by her bedside, and saying. What shall 
we do with this woman ? for she cries out for mercy, 
waking and sleepinpf t if she be suffered to go on as she 
begins, we shall lose Tier as we have lost her husband. 
Wherefore we must, by one way or other, seek to take 
her off from the thoughts of what shall be hereafter, else 
all the world cannot help but she will become a pil- 
grim 

Now she awoke in a great sweat, also a trembling 
was upon her : but after a while she fell to sleeping 
again. And then she thought she saw Christian, her 
husband, in a place of bliss among many immortals, with 
a harp in his hand, standing and playing upon it before 
One that sat on a throne with a rainbow about His 
head. She saw also, as if he bowed his head with his 
face to the paved work that was under his Prince's 
feet, saying, " I heartily thank my Lord and King for 
bringing me into this place." Then shouted a com- 
pany of them that stood round about, and harped 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 273 

with their harps j but no man living could tell what 
they said but Christian and his companions. 

Next morning, when she was up, had praj^ed to God, 
and talked with her children a while, one knocked hard 
at the door; to whom she spake out, saying, " If thou 
comest in God's name, come in." So he said, "Amen ;" 
and opened the door, and saluted her with, " Peace be 
to this house/' The which when he had done, he said, 
" Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am come ? '* 
Then she blushed and trembled ; also her heart began 
to wax warm with desires to know from whence he 
came, and what was his errand to her. So he said unto 
her, " My name is Secret ; I dwell with those that are 
on high. It is talked of where I dwell as if thou hadst 
a desire to go thither : also, there is a report that thou 
art aware of the evil thou hast formerl}^ done to tby 
husband, in hardening of thy heart against his ways, 
and in keeping of these babes in their ignorance. 
Christiana, the Merciful One hath sent me to tell thee, 
that he is a God ready to forgive, and that He taketh 
delight to multiply the pardon of offences. He also 
would have thee to know, that He inviteth thee to come 
into His presence, to His table, and that He will feed 
thee with the fat of His house, and with the heritage 
of Jacob thy father. 

" There is Christian, thy husband that was, with 
legions more, his companions, ever beholding that face 
that doth minister life to beholders ; and they will all 
be glad when they shall hear the sound of thy feet step 
over thy Father's vhreshold." 

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, 
and bowed her head to the ground. This visitor pro- 
ceeded, and said, " Christiana, here is also a letter for 
thee, which I have brought from thy husband's King." 
So she took it, and opened it, but it smelt after the 



274 ^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

manner of the best perfume. (Song 1 : 3.) Also, it 
was written in letters of gold. The contents of the 
letter were these, That the King would have her to do 
as did Christian her husband ; for that was the way to 
come to His city, and to dwell in His presence with joy 
forever. At this the good woman was quite overcome ; 
so she cried out to her visitor, Sir, will you carry me 
and my children with you, that we also may go and 
worship the King ? 

Then said the visitor, Christiana, the bitter is be- 
fore the sweet. Thou must through troubles, as did 
he that went before thee, enter this Celestial City. 
Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy 
husband : go to the wicket-gate yonder, over the plain, 
for that stands at the head of the way up which thou 
must go ; and I wish thee all good speed. Also I ad- 
vise that thou put this letter in thy bosom, that thou 
read therein to thyself and to thy children until you 
have got it by heart ; for it is one of the songs that 
thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pil- 
grimage (Psalm 119 ; 54) ; also this thou must deliver 
in at the farther gate. 

Now I saw, in my dream, that this old gentleman, 
as he told me the story, did himself seem to be greatly 
affected therewith. He moreover proceeded, and said, 
So Christiana called her sons together, and began thus 
to address herself unto them : " My sons, I have, as you 
may perceive, been of late under much exercise in my 
soul about the death of your father : not for that I 
doubt at all of his happiness, for I am satisfied now that 
he is well I have also been much affected with the 
thoughts of my own state and yours, which I verily be- 
lieve is by nature miserable. My carriage also to your 
£ather in his distress is a great load to my conscience' 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 275 

for I hardened both mine own heart and yours against 
him, and refused to go with him on pilgrimage. 

The thoughts of these things would now kill me 
outright, but that for a dream which I had last night, 
and but that for the encouragement which this stranger 
has given me this morning. Come, my children, let us 
pack up, and be gone to the gate that leads to the 
Celestial Country, that we may see your father, and be 
with him and his companions in peace, according to the 
laws of that land. 

Then did her children burst out into tears, for joy 
that the heart of their mother was so inclined. So 
their visitor bid them farewell ; and they began to pre- 
pare to set out for their journey. 

But while they were thus about to be gone, two of 
the women that were Christiana's neighbors came up 
to her house, and knocked at her door. To whom she 
said, as before. If you come in God's name, come in. 
At this the woman were stunned: for this kind of lan- 
guage they used not to hear, or to perceive to drop from 
the lips of Christiana. Yet they came in : but behold, 
they found the good woman preparing to be gone from 
her house. 

So they began, and said, Neighbor, pray what is 
your meaning by this ? 

Christiana answered, and said to the eldest of them, 
"whose name was Mrs. Timorous, I am preparing for a 
journey. 

This Timorous was daughter to him that met Chris- 
tian upon th© hill of Difficulty, and would have had 
him go back for fear of the lions. 

Tim. For what journey, I pray you ? 

Chr. Fven to go after my good husband. And 
with that she fell a-weeping. 

Tim. I hope not so* good neighbor ; pray, for your 



27G THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

poor children's sake, do not so unwomanly cast aw^y 
yourself. 

Chr. Nay, my children shall go with me ; not one 
of them is willing to stay behind. 

Tim. I wonder in my very heart what or who has 
brought you into this mind ! 

Chr. Oh, neighbor, knew you but as much as I do, 
I doubt not but that you would go along with me. 

Tim. Prithee, what new knowledge hast thou got, 
that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that 
tempteth thee to go nobody knows where ? 

Chr. Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely 
afflicted since my husband's departure from me ; but 
especiallj^ since he went over the river. But that which 
troubleth me most is, my churlish carriage to him when 
he was under his distress. Besides, I am now as he was 
then ; nothing will serve me but going on pilgrimage. 
I was dreaming last night that I saw him. Oh, that 
my soul was with him ! He dwelleth in the presence 
of the King of the country ; he sits and eats with Him 
at His table ; he is become a companion of immortals, 
and has a house now given him to dwell in, to which 
the best palace on earth, if compared, seems to me but 
as a dunghill. (2 Cor. 5 : 1-4.) The Prince of the 
place has also sent for me, with promise of entertain- 
ment, if I shall come to Him ; His messenger was here 
even now, and has brought me a letter, which invites 
me to come. And with that she plucked out her letter, 
and read it, and said to them. What now will you say 
to this ? 

Tim. Oh, the madness that has possessed thee ..nd 
thy husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties ! 
You have heard, I am sure, what your husband did 
meet with, even in a manner at the first step that h« 
took on his way, as our neighbor Obstinate can yet teaf 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 277 

titv, for he went along with him ; yea, and Pliable, too, 
until they, like wise men, were afraid to go any farther. 
We also heard, over and above, how he met with the 
lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and many other 
things. Nor is the danger that he met with at Vanity 
Fair to be forgotten by thee. For if he, though a man, 
was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being but a poor 
woman, do? Consider also, that these four sweet babes 
are thy children, thy flesh and thy bones. Wherefore, 
though thou shouldst be so rash as to cast away thy- 
self, yet, for the sake of the fruit of thy body, keep 
thou at home. 

But Christiana said unto her. Tempt me not, my 
neighbor : I have now a price put into my hands to 
get gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest size if I 
should have no heart to strike in with the opportunity. 
And for that you tell me of all these troubles which I 
am like to meet with in the way, they are so far from 
being to me a discouragement, that they show I am in 
the right. The bitter must come before the sweet, and 
that also will make the sweet the sweeter. Wherefore, 
since you came not to my house in God's name, as I 
said, I pray you to be gone, and not to disquiet me 
further. 

Then Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow, 
Come, neighbor Mercy, let us leave her in her own 
hands, since she scorns our counsel and company. But 
Mercy was at a stand, and could not so readily comply 
with her neighbor ; and that for a twofold reason. 1. 
Her bowels yearned over Christiana. So she said, 
within herself. If my neighbor will needs be gone, I will 
go a little way with her, and help her. 2. Her bowels 
yearned over her own soul ; for what Christiana had 
said had taken some hold upon her mind. Wherefore 
she said, within herself again, I will yet have more talk 



2jS THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

with this Christiana ; and, if I find truth and life in 
what she shall say, I myself with my heart shall also 
go with her. Wherefore Mercy began thus to reply to 
her neighbor Timorous : — 

Mer. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you to see 
Christiana this morning ; and since she is, as you see, 
taking her last farewell of her country, I think to walk 
this sunshiny morning a little with her, to help her on 
her way. But she told her not of her second reason, 
but kept it to herself. 

Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a-tooling too ; 
but take heed in time, and be wise : while we are out 
of danger, we are out ; but when we are in, we are in . 

So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Chris* 
tiana betook herself to her journey. But when Timor, 
ous was got home to her house she sends for some c£ 
her neighbors, to wit, Mrs. Batseyes, Mrs. Inconsiderate, 
Mrs. Lightmind, and Mrs. Knownothing. So when 
they were come to her house, she falls to telling of tho 
story of Christiana, and of her intended journey. And 
thus she began her tale : — 

Tim. Neighbors, having had little to do this morning, 
I went to give Christiana a visit ; and when I came at 
the door I knocked, as you know it is our custom ; and 
she answered, If you come in God's name, come in. So 
in I went, thinking all was well ; but, when I came in, 
I found her preparing herself to depart the town, she, 
and also her children. So I asked her what was her 
meaning by that. And she told me, in short, that she 
was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her hus- 
band. She told me also of a dream that she had, and 
how the King of the country where her husband was* 
had sent her an inviting letter to come thither. 

Then said Mrs. Knownothing, And what, do yo^ 
think she will go? 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 279 

Tim. Aye, go she will, whatever comes on*t ; and 
methinks I know it by this ; for that which was my 
great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to wit, 
the troubles she was like to meet with on the way), is 
one great argument with her to put her forward on her 
journey. For she told me in so many words, The bitter 
goes before the sweet ; yea, and forasmuch as it so doth, 
it makes the sweet the sweeter. 

Mrs. Batseyes. Oh, this blind and foolish woman ! 
said she ; and will she not take warning by her hus» 
band's afflictions ? For my part, I see, if he were here 
again, he would rest himself content in a whole skin, 
and never run so many hazards for nothing. 

Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, Away with 
such fantastical fools from the town : a good riddancr?, 
for my part, I say, of her ; should she stay where she 
dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live quietly 
by her? for she will either be dumpish, or unneighborly, 
or talk of such matters as no wise bod}^ can abid<^ 
"Wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sorry for h^r 
departure * let her go, and let better come in her room ; 
it was never a good world since these whimsical fools 
dwelt in it. 

Then Mrs. Lightmind added as followeth: Come, 
put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at Madam 
Wanton's, where we were as merry as the maids. For 
who do you think should be there but I and Mrs. Love- 
theflesh, and three or four more, with Mrs. Lechery, 
Mrs. Filth, and some others : so there we had music and 
dancing, and what else was meet to fill up the pleasure. 
And I dare say, my lady herself is an admirably well- 
bred gentlewoman, and Mr. Lechery is as pretty a 
fellow 



98o THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



THE FIRST STAGE. 



By this time Christiana was got on her way^ and 

Mercy went along with her : so as they went, her chil- 
dren being there also, Christiana began to discourse. 
And, Mercy, said Christiana, I take this as an unex- 
pected favor, that thou shouldst set forth out of doors 
with me to accompany me a little in my way. 

Mer. Then said young Mercy (for she was but 
young). If I thought it would be to purpose to go wi^h 
you, I would never go near the town any more. 

Chr. Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot 
with me : I well know what will be the snd of our 
pilgrimage : my husband is where he would not but be 
for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou 
be rejec^iCd, though thou goest but upon my invitation. 
The King, who hath sent for me and my children, is 
one that delighteth in mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I 
will hire thee, and thou shalt go along with me as my 
servant. Yet we will have all things in common be- 
twixt thee and me : only go along with me. 

Mer. But how shall I be ascertained that I also 
should be entertained ? Had I this hope but from one 
that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would 
go, being helped by Him that can help, though the way 
was never so tedious. 

Chr. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou 
shalt do : go with me to the wicket-gate, and there I 
will further inquire for thee ; and if there thou shalt 
not meet with encouragement, I will be content that 
thou return to thy place : I will also pay thee for thy 
kindness which thou showest to me and my children, 
in the accompanying of us in the way that thou dost. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 28x 

Mer. Then will I go thither, and will take what 
shall follow ; and the Lord grant that my lot may there 
fall, even as the King of Heaven shall have his heart 
upon me. 

Christiana then was glad at heart, not only that she 
had a companion, but also for that she had prevailed 
with this poor maid to fall in love with her own salva- 
tion. So they went on together, and Mercy began to 
weep. Then said Christiana, Wherefore weepeth my 
sister so ? 

Mer. Alas ! said she, who can but lament, that shall 
but rightly consider what a state and condition my pool 
relations are in, that yet remain in our sinful town ? 
And that which makes my grief the more heavy is, be- 
cause they have no instructor, nor any to tell them what 
is to come. 

Chr. Pity becomes pilgrims ; and thou dost weep 
for thy friends, as my good Christian did for me when 
lie left me : he mourned for that I would not heed nor 
1 egard him ; but his Lord and ours did gather up his 
tears, and put them into His bottle ; and now both I 
and thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the 
h uit and benefit of them. I hope, Merc3% that these 
tears of thine will not be lost ; for the Truth hath said, 
that " they that sow in tears shall reap in joy." And, 
"he that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious 
seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing 
his sheaves with him." (Psalm 126 : 5, 6.) 

Then said Mercy, — 

*' Let the Most Blessed be my guide, 
If it be His blessed will, 
Unto His gate, into His fold, 
Up to His holy hill. 

'And let Him never sufifer me 
To swerve, or turn aside 



28t FHE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

From His free grace and holy ways, 
Whate'er shall me betide. 
** And let Him gather them of mine 
That I have left behind ; 
Lord, make them pray thej^ may be Thine, 
With all their heart and mind." 

Now my old friend proceeded, and said, But wheE 
Christiana came to the Slough of Despond, she began 
to be at a stand j For, said she, this is the place in which 
my dear husband had like to have been smothered with 
mud. She perceived, also, that notwithstanding the 
command of the King to make this place for pilgrims 
good, yet it was rather worse than formerly. So I asked 
if that was true. Yes, said the old gentleman, too true 
for many there be that pretend to be the King's labor^ 
ers, and that say they are for mending the King's high- 
ways, who bring dirt and dung instead of stones, and 
80 mar instead of mending. Here Christiana therefore, 
with her boys, did make a stand. But, said Mercy, 
I'ome, let us venture ; only let us be wary. Then they 
looked well to their steps, and made a shift to get stag- 
gering over. 

Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that 
not once or twice. Now they had no sooner got over, 
but they thought they heard words that said unto them, 
" Blessed is she that believeth ; for there shall be a 
performance of those things which were told her from 
the Lord." (Luke 1 : 45.) 

Then they went on again •, and said Mercy to Chris- 
tiana, Had I as good ground to hope for a loving recej)- 
tion at the wicket-gate as you, I think no Slough of 
Despond would discourage me. 

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I 
know mine ; and, good friend, we shall all have enough 
evil be£oxe wa come to our journey's end. For can it 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 283 

be iD&agined that the people who design to attain such 
excellent glories as we do, and who are so envied that 
happiness as we are, but that we sha^"" meet with what 
fears and snares, with what troubles and afflictions, 
they can possibly assault us with that hate us ? 

And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my 
4ream by myself. Wherefore, methought I saw Chris- 
tiana and Mercy, and the boys, go all of them up to the 
gate : to which, when they were come, they betook 
themselves to a short debate about how they must man- 
age their calling at the gate, and what should be said 
unto him that did open unto them. So it was concluded, 
since Christiana was the eldest, that she should knock 
for entrance, and that she should speak to him that did 
open, for the rest. So Christiana began to knock, and, 
as her poor husband did, she knocked and knocked 
again. But instead of any that answered, they all 
thought they heard as if a dog came barking upon them ; 
a dog, and a great one too ; and this made the women 
and children afraid. Nor durst they for a while to 
knock any more, for fear the mastiff should fly upon 
them. Now, therefore, they were greatly tumbled up 
and down in their minds, and knew not what to do ; 
knock they durst not for fear of the dog ; go back they 
durst not, for fear the keeper of the gate should espy 
them as they so went, and should be offended with 
them ; at last they thought of knocking again, and 
knocked more vehemently than they did at first. Then 
^aid the keeper of the gate, Who is there ? So the dog 
left off to bark, and he opened unto them. 

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said. Let 
not our Lord be offended with his handmaidens, for that 
we have knocked at his princely gate. Then said the 
keeper, Whence come ye ? and what is it that ye would 
have? 



284 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

Christiana answered, We are come from whenr 
Christian did come, and upon the same errand as he , 
to wit, to be, if it shall please you, graciously admitted 
by this gate into the way that leads unto the Celestial 
City. And I answer, my Lord, in the next place, that 
I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, that now is 
gotten above. 

With that the keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, 
What, is she now become a pilgrim that but a while ago 
abhorred that life ? Then she bowed her head, and said, 
Yea ; and so are these my sweet babes, also 

Then he took her by the hand and led her in, and 
said also. Suffer little children to come unto me ; anJ 
with that he shut up the gate. This done, he called 
to a trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to enter- 
tain Christiana with shouting and sound of trumpet for 
joy. So he obeyed, and sounded, and filled the air 
with his melodious notes. 

Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without;, 
trembling and crying, for fear that she was rejected 
But when Christiana had got admittance for herself ani 
her boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy. 

And she said. My Lord, I have a companion that 
stands yet without, that is come hither upon the same 
account as myself: one that is much dejected in her 
mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, without send- 
ing for ; whereas I was sent for by my husband's King 
to come. 

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, and each 
minute was as long to her as an hour ; wherefore she 
prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for her, 
by knocking at the gate herself. And she knocked then 
80 loud that she made Christiana to start. Then said 
the keeper of the gate, Who is there ? And Christiana 
said, It is my friend. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 285 

So he opened the gate and looked out, but Mercy 
was fallen down without in a swoon, for she fainted, 
and was afraid that no gate should be opened to her. 

Then he took her by the hand and said, Damsel, I 
bid thee arise. 

Oh, sir, said she, I am faint ; there is scarce life left 
in me. But he answered that one once said, " When 
my soul fainted within me I remeanbered the Lord : and 
my prayer came unto thee, into thy holy temple." 
(Jonah 2 : 7.) Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, and 
tell me wherefore thou art come. 

Mer. I am come from that unto which I was never 
invited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from 
the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I 
fear I presume. 

Keep. Did she desire thee to come with her to this 
place ? 

Mer. Yes ; and as my Lord sees, I am come. And 
it there is any grace and forgiveness of sins to spare, 
I beseech that thy poor handmaid may be a partaker 
thereof. 

Then he took her again by the hand, and led her 
gently in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on 
me, by what means soever they come unto me. Then 
said he to those that stood by. Fetch something and give 
it to Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her faintings ; 
so they fetched her a bundle of myrrh, and a while after 
she was revived. 

And now were Christiana and her boys, and Mercy 
received of the Lord at the head of the way, and 
spoken kindly unto by him. Then said they yet further 
unto him. We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our 
Lord his pardon, and further information what we 
must do. 

I grant pardon, said he, by word and deed : by worci, 



286 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

in the promise of forgiveness ; by deed, in the way I 
obtained it. Take the first from my lips with a kiss, 
and the other as it shall be revealed. (Song 1:2; John 
20 : 20.) 

Now I saw, in my dream, that he spake many good 
words unto them, whereby they were greatly glad- 
dened. He also had them up to the top of the gate^ 
and showed them by what deed they were saved ; and 
told them withal that that sight they would have again 
as they went along in the way, to their comfort. 

So he left them a while in a summer parlor below, 
where they entered into talk by themselves : and thus 
Christiana began : — 

Chr. Oh, how glad am I that we are got in hither I 

Mer. So you well may ; but I, of all, have cause to 
leap for joy. 

Chr. I thought one time, as I stood at the gate, 
because I had knocked and none did answer, that all 
our labor had been lost ; especially when that ugly civ 
made such a heavy barking against us. 

Mer. But my worst fear was after I saw that yon 
was taken into his favor, and that I was left behind. 
Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which is written, " Two 
women shall be grinding at the mill ; the one shall be 
taken, and the other left. (Matt. 24 : 41.) I had much 
ado to forbear crying out. Undone ! And afraid I wa* 
to knock any more ; but when I looked up to what wa^ 
written over the gate, I took courage. I also thought 
that I must either knock again, or die ; so I knocked, 
but I cannot tell how, for my spirit now struggled 
between life and death. 

Chr. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am 
sure your knocks were so very earnest that the sound 
»f them made me start ; I thought I never heard such 
knocking in ail my life ; I thought you would come in 
by a violent baud. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 287 

Mer. Alas I to be in my case, who that so was could 
but have done so ? You saw that the door was shut 
upon me, and there was a most cruel dog thereabout. 
Who, I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, would not 
have knocked with all their might ? But pray, what 
said my Lord to my rudeness? Was he not angry 
with me ? 

Chr. When he heard your lumbering noise, he gave 
a wonderful innoceiit smile : I believe what you did 
pleased him well, for he showed no sign to the con* 
trary. But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a 
dog : had I known that before, I should not have had 
2ieart enough to have ventured myself in this manner. 
But now we are in, we are in, and I am glad with ail 
my heart. 

Mer. I will ask, if you please, next time he comes 
down, why he keeps such a filthy cur in his yard; I 
hope he will not take it amiss. 

Do so, said the children, and persuade him to hang 
him, for we are afraid he will bite us when we go 
hence. 

So at last he came down to them again, and Mercy fell 
to the ground on her face before him, and worshipped 
and said, " Let my Lord accept the sacrifice of praise 
which I now offer unto him with the calves of my lips." 

So he said unto her, Peace be to thee ; stand up. 

But she continued upon her face, and said, " Right- 
sous art thou, O Lord, when I plead with thee ; yet let 
me talk with thee of thy judgments." (Jer. 12 : 1, 2.) 
Wherefore dost thou keep so cruel a dog in thy yard, at 
the sight of which, such women and children as we are 
ready to fly from thy gate for fear ? 

He answered and said, That dog has another owner ; 
he also is kept close in another man's ground, only my 

19 



288 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

pilgrims hear his barking ; he belongs to the castle 
which you see there at a distance, but can come up to 
the walls of this place. He has frighted many an 
honest pilgrim from worse to better, by the great voice 
of his roaring. Indeed, he that owneth him, doth not 
keep him out of any good will to me or mine ; but with 
Intent to keep the pilgrims from coming to me, and that 
they may be afraid to come and knock at this gate for 
entrance. Sometimes also he has broken out, and has 
worried some that I loved ; but I take all at present 
patiently. I also gave my pilgrims timely help, so that 
they are not delivered to his power, to do with them 
what his doggish nature would prompt him to. But 
what, my purchased one, I trow, hadst thou known 
never so much beforehand, thou wouldst not have been 
afraid of a dog. The beggars that go from door to door, 
will, rather than lose a supposed alms, run the hazard 
of the bawling, barking, and biting, too, of a dog. And 
shall a dog, a dog in another man's yard, a dog whose 
barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep any from 
coming to me ? I deliver them from the lions, and my 
darling from the power of the dog. (Psalm 22 : 21, 22.) 

Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance ; 1 spake 
what I understood not ; I acknowledge that thou doest 
a)l things well. 

Then Christiana began to talk of their journey, and 
to inquire after the way. So he fed them and washed 
their feet, and set them in the way of his steps, accord- 
f r\g as he had dealt with her husband before. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. t%^ 



THE SECOND STAGE. 

So I saw, in my dream, that they walked on theit 
way, and. had the weather very comfortable to them. 
Then Christiana began to sing, saying, — 

** Blessed be the day that I began 
A pilgrim for to be, 
And blessed also be the man 
That thereto moved me. 

** Tis true, 'twas long ere I began 
To seek to live forever ; 
But now I run as fast as I can : 
'Tis better late than never. 

** Our tears to joy, our fears to faith. 
Are turned, as we see ; 
Thus our beginning (as one saith) 
Shows what our end will be." 

Now there was, on the other side of the wall thj«t 
fenced in the way up which Christiana and her com- 
panions were to go, a garden, and that garden belonged 
to him whose was that barking dog, of whom mentioa 
was made before. And some of the fruit-trees that 
grew in that garden shot their branches over the walJ ; 
and being mellow, they that found them did gather 
thsm up, and eat of them to their hurt. So Christiana's 
boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased with the 
trees, and with the fruit that hung thereon, did pluck 
them, and began to eat. Their mother did also chide 
them for so doing, but still the boys went on. 

Well, said she, my sons, you transgress, for that 
fruit is none of ours. But she did not know that it be- 
joQgsd to the enemy ; I'll warrant you, if she had she 



f^ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

would have been ready to die for fear. But that passed^ 
and they went on their way. Now, by that they were 
gone about two bow-shots from the place that led them 
into the way, they espied two very ill-favored ones com- 
ing down apace to meet them. With that Christiana 
and Mercy, her friend, covered themselves with their 
veils, and so kept on their journey : the children also 
went on before ■ so that at last they met together. 
Then they that came down to meet them, came just up 
to the women, as if they would embrace them ; t)ut 
Christiana said, Stand back, or go peaceably, as you 
should. Yet these two, as men that are deaf, regarded 
not Christiana's words, but began to lay hands upou 
them : at that Christiana waxing very wroth, spurned 
at them with her feet. Mercy also, as well as she couh/, 
did what she could to shift them. Christiana agaia 
said to them, Stand back, and be gone ; for we have n o 
money to lose, being pilgrims, as you see ; and sucln, 
too, as live upon the charity of our friends. 

Then said one of the two men, We make no assauH 
upon you for money ; but are come out to tell you, that 
if you will but grant one small request which we shall 
ask, we will make women of 5^ou forever. 

Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, 
made answer again. We will neither hear, nor regard, 
nor yield to what you shall ask. We are in haste, and 
can not stay ; our business is a business of life and 
death. So again she and her companion made a fresh 
essay to go past them ; but they letted them in their 
way. 

And they said. We intend no hurt to your lives \ it 
is another thing we would Lave. 

Aye, quoth Christiana, you would have us body and 
60ul, for I know it is for that you are come ; but we 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 291 

will die rather upon the spot, than to suffer ourselves 
to be brought into such snares as shall hazard our well« 
being hereafter. And with that they both shrieked out, 
and cried, Murder ! murder ! and so put themselves under 
those laws that are provided for the protection of women. 
(Deut. 22 ; 25-27.) But the men still made their ap= 
proach upon them, with design to prevail against theme 
They therefore cried out again. 

Now they being, as I said, not far from the gate in 
at which they came, their voice was heard from whence 
they were, thither : wherefore some of the house came 
out, and knowing that it was Christiana's tongue, they 
made haste to her relief. But by that they were got 
within sight of them, the women were in a very great 
scuffle ; the children also stood crying by. Then did 
he that came in for their relief call out to the ruffians, 
saying, What is that thing you do ? Would you make 
my Lord's people to transgress ? He also attempted to 
take them, but they did make their escape over the wall 
into the garden of the man to whom the great dog be^ 
longed ; so the dog became their protector. This Re- 
liever then came up to the women, and asked them how 
they did. So they answered, We thank thy Prince, 
pretty well ; only we have been somewhat affrighted : 
we thank thee also for that thou camest in to our help, 
otherwise we had been overcome. 

So, after a few more words, this Reliever said as fol- 
loweth : I marvelled much when you were entertained 
at th<3 gate above, seeing ye knew that ye were but 
weak women, that you petitioned not the Lord for a 
conductor. Then might you have avoided these trou- 
bles and dangers ; for he would have granted you one. 

Alas ! said Christiana, we were so taken with our 
preseat blessing, that dangers to come were forgotten 
by us. Besides, who could have thought, that so near 



292 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

the King's palace there could have lurked such naughty 
ones? Indeed, it had been well for us had we asked 
our Lord for one ; but since our Lord knew it would 
be for our profit, I wonder he sent not one along 
with us. 

Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things not 
asked for ; lest, by so doing, they become of little es« 
teem. But when the want of a thing is felt, it then 
comes under, in the eyes of him that feels it, that esti- 
mate that properly is its due ; and so consequently will 
be thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a con- 
ductor, you would not either so have bewailed that 
oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now you 
have occasion to do. So all things work for good, and 
tend to make you more wary. 

Chr. Shall we go back again to my Lord, and con- 
fess our folly, and ask one ? 

Rel. Your confession of your folly I will present 
him with. To go back again, you need not ; for in all 
places where you shall come, you will find no want at 
all ; for in every one of my Lord's lodgings, which ho 
has prepared for the reception of his pilgrims, there is 
sufficient to furnish them against all attempts whatso- 
ever. But, as I said, he will be inquired of by them, to 
do it for them. (Ezek. 36 : 37.) And 'tis a poor thing 
that is not worth asking for. When he had thus said, 
he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went on 
their way. 

Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank is here ? I 
made account for that we had been past all danger, and 
that we should never see sorrow more. 

Thy innocency, my sister, said Christiana to Mercy, 
may excuse thee much ; but as for me, my fault is so 
much the greater, for that I saw this danger before I 
came out of the doors, and yet did not provide for ill 



TffE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 2^3 

when provision might have been had. I am much to 
be blamed. 

Then said Mercy, How knew you this before yoii 
came from home ? Pray, open to me this riddle. 

Chr. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of 
doors, one night, as I lay in my bed, I had a dream 
about this ; for methought I saw two men, as like these 
as ever any in the world could look, stand at my bed's 
feet, plotting how they might prevent my salvation. I 
will tell you their very words. They said (it was when 
I was in my troubles), What shall we do with this 
woman ? for she cries out, waking and sleeping, for for- 
giveness : if she be suffered to go on as she begins, w^ 
shall lose her as we have lost her husband. This you 
know might have made me take heed, and have pro- 
vided when provision might have been had. 

Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have ati 
occasion ministered unto us to behold our own imper- 
fections, so our Lord has taken occasion thereby to 
make manifest the riches of his grace : for he, as we see, 
has followed us with unasked kindness, and has deliv- 
ered us from their hands that were stronger than we, of 
his mere good pleasure. 

Thus now, when they had talked away a little more 
time, they drew near to a house which stood in the 
way ; which house was built for the relief of pilgrims, 
as you will find more fully related in the first part of 
these records of the Pilgrim's Progress. So they drew 
on towards the house (the house of the Interpreter); 
and when they came to the door, they heard a great 
talk in the house. Then they gave ear, and heard, as 
they thought, Christiana mentioned by name ; for you 
must know that there went along, even before her, a 
talk of her and her children's going on pilgrimage. And 
this was the more pleasing to them, because they had 



^94 THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS. 

heard that she was Christian's wife ; that woman who 
was, some time ago, so unwilling to hear of going 
on pilgrimage. Thus, therefore, they stood still, and 
heard the good people within commending her who 
they little thought stood at the door. At last Chris- 
tiana knocked, as she had done at the gate before. Now, 
when she had knocked, there came to the door a young 
damsel, and opened the door, and looked, and behold, 
two women were there. 

Then said the damsel to them, With whom would 
Vou speak in this place ? 

Clr Istiana answered, We understand that this is a 
privD^ig ^d place for those that are become pilgrims, and 
we I -w Ht this door are such : wherefore we pray the it 
we /<tay ^ partakers of that for which we at this time 
are jome^ for the day, as thou seest, is very farspenv, 
aiA . 3 are loth to-night to go any farther. 

Dam. Pray, what may I call your name, that I maT 
tell it to my Lord within. 

Chr. My name is Christiana: I was the wife cf 
that pilgrim that some years ago did travel this wa}^, 
and these be his four children. This maiden also is my 
companion, and is going on pilgrimage, too. 

Then Innocent ran in (for that was her name), and 
said to those within, Can you think who is at the door ? 
There is Christiana and her children, and her com- 
panion, all waiting for entertainment here. Then they 
leaped for joy, and went and told their master. So he 
came to the door, and, looking upon her, he said. Art 
thou that Christiana whom Christian the good man left 
behind him when he betook himself to a pilgrim's life ? 
Chr. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as 
to slight my husband's troubles, and that left him to 
go on his journey alone ; and these are his four children. 
But now I also am come ; for I am convinced that UQ 
way is right but this*- 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 295 

Inter. Then is fulfilled that which is written of the 
man that said to his son, " Go work to-day in my vine*- 
yard ; and he said to his father, I will not ; but afte^v 
wards repented and went." (Matt. 21 : 28, 29.) 

Then said Christiana, So be it : Amen. God mak(? 
it a true saying upon me, and grant that I may b€?i! 
found at the last of Him in peace, without spot, andj 
blameless. 

Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door r» 
Come in, thou daughter of Abraham ; we were talking 
of thee but now, for tidings have come to us before 
how thou art become a pilgrim. Come, children, com»» 
in ; come, maiden, come in. So he had them all intg 
the house. 

So when they were within, they were bidden to si'i 
down and rest them ; the which when they had donei 
those that attended upon the pilgrims in the housM 
came into the room to see them. And one smiled, and 
another smiled, and they all smiled for joy that Chris • 
tiana was become a pilgrim. They also looked upon 
the bo3^s ; they stroked them over their faces with thf 
hand, in token of their kind reception of them : thej- 
also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all wel 
come into their master's house. 

After a while, because supper was not ready, the 
Interpreter took them into his Significant Rooms, and 
showed them what Christian, Christiana's husband, had 
seen some time before. Here, therefore, they saw the 
man in the cage, the man and his dream, the man thai: 
cut his way through his enemies, and the picture of the 
biggest of them all, together with the rest of those 
things that were then so profitable to Christian. 

This done, and after tliose things had been sorTie* 
^hat digested by Christiana and her company, fchef 
Interpreter takes them apart again, and has them firsfi 



^^6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

into a room where was a man that could look no wa^' 
but downwards, with a muck-rake in his hand. There 
stood also one over his head with a celestial crown in 
His hand, and proffered him that crown for his muck* 
rake ; but the man did neither look up nor regard, but 
«:aked to himself the straws, the small sticks and dust 
of the floor. 

Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know 
somewhat the meaning of this; for this is the figure of 
a man of this world. Is it not, good sir? 

Thou hast said right, said he ; and his muck-rake 
doth show his carnal mind. And whereas thou seest 
him rather give heed to rake up straws and sticks, and 
the dust of the floor, than to do what He says that calls 
to him from above with the celestial crown in His hand, 
it is to show that heaven is but as a fable to some, and 
that things here are counted the only things substan- 
tial. Now, whereas it was also showed thee that the 
man could look no way but downwards, it is to let thee 
know that earthly things, when they are with power 
upon men's minds, quite carry their hearts away from 
God. 

Then said Christiana, Oh, deliver me from this 
muck-rake. 

That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain by till it 
is almost rusty. " Give me not riches " (Prov. 30 : 8), 
is scarce the prayer of one in ten thousand. Straws, 
and sticks, and dust, with most, are the great things 
now looked after. 

With that Christiana and Mercy wept, and said. It 
is, alas ! too true. 

When the Interpreter had shown them this, he had 
them into the very best i\)om in the house ; a very 
brave room it was. So he bid them look round about, 
and see if they could find anything profitable theiu 



'THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 997 

Then they looked round and round ; for there was 
nothing to be seen but a very great spider on the wall, 
and that they overlooked. 

Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing. But Christiana 
held her peace. 

But, said the Interpreter, look again. She there- 
fore looked again, and said, Here is not anything but 
an ugly spider, who hangs by her hands upon the wall. 
Then said he. Is there but one spider in all this spaci- 
ous room ? Then the water stood in Christiana's eyes> 
for she was a woman quick of apprehension ; and she 
said. Yea, Lord, there are more here than one ; yea, and 
jpiders whose venom is far more destructive than that 
•vhich is in her. The Interpreter then looked pleas- 
antly on her, and said, Thou hast said the truth. Thia 
made Mercy to blush, and the boys to cover their 
faces ; for they all began now to understand the riddle. 

Then said the Interpreter again, " The spider taketh 
hold with her hands," as you see, " and is in kings* 
palaces." (Prov. 30 : 28.) And wherefore is this re- 
corded, but to show you, that, how full of the venom 
of sin soever you be, yet you may, by the hand of Faith, 
lay hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to 
the King's house above ? 

I thought, said Christiana, of something of this; but 
I could not imagine it all. I thought that we were 
like spiders, and that we looked like ugly creatures, in 
what fine rooms soever we were: but that by this 
spider, that venomous and ill-favored creature, we were 
to learn how to act faith, that came not into my 
thoughts. And yet she had taken hold with her hands, 
and, as I see, dwelleth in the best room in the house. 
God has made nothing in vain. 

Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the watei 
atood in their eyes ; yet they looked one upon another 
and also bowed befor*^ the Intsi^T^reter- 



'298 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

He had them then into another room, where were a 
hen and chickens, and bid them observe a while. So 
one of the chickens went to the trough to drink, and 
every time she drank she lifted up her head and hei 
eyes towards heaven. See, said he, what this little 
chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge whence 
your mercies come, by receiving them with looking up. 
Yet again, said he, observe and look. So they gave 
fceed, and perceived that the hen did walk in a fourfold 
method towards her chickei's: 1. She had a common 
call ; and that she hath all tne day long. 2. She had 
a special call ; and that she had but some times. 3. 
She had a brooding not6. (Matt. 23 : 37.) And, 4. 
She had, an outcry. 

Now, said he, compare this hen to your King, and 
these chickens to His obedient ones. For, answerable 
to her, He Himself hath His methods which He walketh 
in towards His people. By His common call. He gives 
nothing ; by His special call. He always has something 
to give ; He has also a brooding voice for them that are 
under His wing ; and He has an outcry, to give the 
alarm when He seeth the enemy come. I chose, my 
darlings, to lead you into the room where such things 
are, because you are women, and they are easy for you. 

And, sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some more. 
So he had them into the slaughter-house, where was a 
butcher killing a sheep ; and behold, the sheep waf 
quiet, and took her death patiently. Then said the In- 
terpreter, You must learn of this sheep to suffer, and to 
put up with wrongs without murmurings and com- 
plaints. Behold how quietly she takes her death, and, 
without objecting, she suffereth her skin to be pulled 
over her ears. Your King doth call you His sheep. 

After this he led them into his garden, where was 
great variety of flowers ; and he said, Dq you see all 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. sg^ 

these? So Christiana said, Yes. Then said he again, 
Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in quality, 
and color, and smell, and virtue ; and some are better 
than others. Also, where the gardener hath set them, 
there they stand, and quarrel not one with another. 

Again, he had them into his field, which he had 
sown with wheat and corn ; but, when they beheld, the 
tops of all were cut off, and only the straw remained. 
He said again. This ground was dunged, and ploughed, 
and sowed, but what shall we do with the crop ? Then 
said Christiana, Burn some, and make muck of the rest. 
Then said the Interpreter again, Fruit, you see, is that 
thing you look for ; and for want of that you condemn 
it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of men : be- 
ware that in this you condemn not yourselves. 

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they 
espied a little robin with a great spider in his moutL». 
So the Interpreter said. Look here. So they lookeo, 
and Mercy wondered ; but Christiana said. What a disr 
paragement is it to such a pretty little bird as the robin - 
redbreast ; he being also a bird, above many, that loveth 
to maintain a kind of sociableness with men ! I had 
thought they had lived upon crumbs of bread, or upon 
other such harmless matter : I like him worse than £ 
did. 

The Interpreter then replied. This robin is an em- 
blem, very apt to set forth some professors by ; for to 
sight they are, as this robin, pretty of note, color, and 
carriage. They seem also to have a very great love for 
professors that are sincere ; and, above all others, to 
desire to associate with them, and to be in their com- 
pany, as if they could live upon the good man's crumbs. 
They pretend, also, that therefore it is that they fre- 
quent the house of the godly, and the appointments of 
the Lord. But when they are by themselves, as tha 



jO# THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

robin, t^ey can catch and gobble np spiders; they can 
change their diet, drink iniquity, and swallow down 
gin like water. 

So, when they were come again into the house, be* 
cause supper as yet was not ready, Christiana again de- 
sired that the Interpreter would either show or tell 
some other things that are profitable. 

Then the Interpreter began, and said, The fatter 
the sow is, the more she desires the mire ; the fatter 
the ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaugh- 
ter ; and the more healthy the lustful man is, the more 
prone he is unto evil. There is a desire in women to 
go neat and fine; and it is a comely thing to be 
adorned with that which in God's sight is of great price. 
*Tis easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a 
whole year together ; so 'tis easier for one to begin to 
profess well, than to hold out as he should to the end. 
Every shipmaster, when in a storm, will willingly cast 
that overboard which is of the smallest value in the ves- 
sel ; but who will throw the best out first? None but 
he that feareth not God. One leak will sink a ship, 
and one sin will destroy a sinner. He that forgets his 
friend is ungrateful unto him ; but he that forgets his 
Saviour is unmerciful to himself. He that lives in sin, 
and looks for happiness hereafter, is like him that sow- 
eth cockle, and thinks to fill his barn with wheat or 
barley. If a man would live well, let him fetch his last 
day to him, and make it always his company-keeper. 
Whispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin is 
in the world. If the world, which God sets light by, 
is counted a thing of that worth with men, what is 
lieaven, that God commendeth? If the life that is at- 
tended with so many troubles, is so loth to be let go by 
us, what is the life above ? Everybody will cry up the 
goodness of men ; but who is there that is, as he should 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 30t 

fee, affected with the goodness of God ? We seldom si4 
down to meat, but we eat, and leave. So there is in 
Jesus Christ more merit and righteousness than the 
whole world has need of. 

When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out 
into his garden again, and had them to a tree whose in- 
side was all rotten and gone, and yet it grew and had 
leaves. Then said Mercy, What means this? Thi^ 
tree, said he, whose outside is fair, and whose inside ia 
rotten, is that to which many may be compared that 
are in the garden of God ; who with their mouths speak 
high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing for 
Him ; whose leaves are fair, but their heart good fov 
nothing but to be tinder for the devil's tinder-box. 

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and al! 
things set on the board ; so they sat down, and did eat, 
when one had given thanks. And the Interpreter did 
usually entertain those that lodged with him with music 
at meals ; so the minstrels played. There was also one 
that did sing, and a very fine voice he had. His song 
was this : — 

** The Lord is only my support, 
And He that doth me feed ; 
How can I then want anything 
Whereof I stand in need ? '* 

When the song and music were ended, the Inter 
preter asked Christiana what it was that at first di4 
move her thus to betake herself to a pilgrim's lifis. 
Christiana answered, First, the loss of my husband 
came into my mind, at which I was heartily grieved ; 
but all that was but natural affection. Then, after that 
came the troubles and pilgrimage of my husband into 
iny mind, and also how like a churl I had carried it to 
him as to that. So guilt took hold of my mind, and 
would have drawn me into the pond, but that oppor 



jOJ THE PILGRIM'S PRtfCRESS, 

tuDftlv I had ^ dream of the well-being of my husbandi 
%nQ it Icctcr sent me by the King of that countiy where 
«iy husband dwells, to come to Him. The dream and 
the letter together so wrought upon my mind that they 
forced me to this way. 

Inter. But met you with no opposition before you 
set out of doors ? 

Chr. Yes ; a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timorous • 
she was akin to him that would have persuaded my 
husband to go back, for fear of the lions. She also 
befooled me, for, as she called it, my intended desperate 
adventure ; she also urged what she could to dishearten 
me from it, the hardships and troubles that my husband 
met with in the way; but all this I got over pretty 
well. But a dream that I had of two ill-looking ones, 
that I thought did plot how to make me miscarry in my 
journey, that hath troubled me much : yea, it still runs 
in my mind, and makes me afraid of every one that I 
meet, lest they should meet me to do me a mischief, 
and to turn me out of my way. Yea, I may tell my 
Lord, though I would not have everybody know of it, 
that betweer this and the gate by which we got into 
the way, we . ere both so sorely assaulted that we were 
made to cry out murder ; and the two that made this 
assault upon us were like the two that I saw in my 
dream. 

Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is good; 
thy latter end shall greatly increase. So he addressed 
himself to Mercy, and said unto her. And what moved 
thee to come hither, sweetheart? 

Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while 
continued silent. 

Then said he, Be not afraid, only believe, and speak 
t\iy mind. 

So she began, and said, Truly, sir, my want of ex* 



THE PILGRIM '^ I'KOGRESS. 303 

penence is that which makes me covet to be \\\ silence, 
and that also that fills me with fears of coming short at 
last. I cannot tell of visions and dreams, as my friend 
Christiana can ; nor know I what it is to mourn for my 
refusing the counsel of those that were good relations. 

Inter. What was it, then, dear heart, that hath 
prevailed with thee to do as thou hast done ? 

Mee. Why, when our friend here was packing up to 
be gone from our town, I and another went accidentally 
to see her. So we knocked at the door, and went in. 
When we were within, and seeing what she was doing, 
we asked her what was her meaning. She said she 
was sent for to go to her husband ; and then she up 
and told us how she had seen him, in a dream, dwelling 
in a curious place, among immortals, wearing a crown, 
playing upon a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince's 
table, and singing praises to Him for bringing him 
thither, &c. Now, methought, while she was telling 
these things unto us, my heart burned within me. 
And I said in my heart. If this be true, I will leave my 
father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, and 
will, if I may, go along with Christiana. So I asked 
her further of the truth of these thmgs, and if she 
would let me go with her ; for I saw now that there 
was no dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, any 
longer in our town. But yet I came away with a 
heavy heart ; not for that I was unwilling to come 
away, but for that so many of my relations were left be- 
hind. And I am come with all the desire of my heart, 
and will go, if I may, with Christiana unto her husband 
and his King. 

Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given 
credit to the truth ; thou art a Ruth, who did, for the 
love she bare to Naomi and to the Lord her God, leave 
i^ather and mother and the land of her nativity, to come 



304 ^^^ PILGRIM'S PkOGRESS. 

out and go with a people she knew not heretoforeii 
'^ The Lord recompense thy work, and a tuU reward be 
given thee of the Lord God of Israel, under whose 
wings thou art come to trust." (Ruth 2 : 11, 12.) 

Now supper was ended, and preparation w is made 
for bed ; the women were laid singly alone, and the 
boys by themselves. Now when Mercy was in bed, she 
could not sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of miss- 
ing at last were removed farther from her than ever 
they were before. So she lay blessing and praising 
God, who had had such favor for her. 

In the morning they arose with the sun, and pre* 
pared themselves for their departure , but the Inter- 
preter would have them tarry a while ; For, said he, 
you must orderly go from hence. Then said he to the 
damsel that first opened unto them. Take them and 
have them into the garden to the bath, and there wash 
them and make them clean from the soil which they 
had gathered by travelling. Then Innocent, the damsel, 
took them and led them into the garden, and brought 
them to the bath; so she told them that there they 
must wash and be clean, for so her master would have 
the women to do that called at his house as they were 
going on pilgrimage. Then they went in and washed, 
yea, they and the boys, and all ; and they came out of 
the bath, not only sweet and clean, but also much en- 
livened and strengthened in their joints. So when they 
came in, they looked fairer a deal than when they went 
out to the washing. 

When they were returned out of the garden from 
the bath, the Interpreter took them and looked upon 
them, and said unto them, " Fair as the moon." Then 
he called for the seal wherewith they used to be sealed 
that were washed in his bath. So the seal was brought, 
and he set his mark upon them, that they might be 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. ^CW 

known in the places whither they were yet to go. 
Now the seal was the contents and sum of the pass* 
over which the children of Israel did eat (Exod. 13* 
8-10) when they came out of the land of Egypt ; and 
the mark was set between their eyes. This seal greatly 
added to their beauty, for it was an ornament to theii 
laces. It also added to their gravity, and made their 
countenances more like those of angels. 

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that 
waited upon these women, Go into the vestry, and 
fetch out garments for these people. So she went and 
fetched out white raiment, and laid it down before him 5 
so he commanded them to put it on : it was fine linen, 
white and clean. When the women were thus adorned, 
they seemed to be a terror one to the other ; for that 
they could not see that glory each one had in herself, 
which they could see in each other. Now therefore 
they began to esteem each other better than themselves. 
For, You are fairer than I am, said one ; and, You are 
more comely than I am, said another. The cliildreu 
also stood amazed, to see into what fashion they were 
brought. 



THE THIRD STAGE. 



The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, 
one Greatheart, and bid him take sword, and helmet^ 
and shield ; and. Take these my daughters, said he, and 
conduct them to the house called Beautiful, at which 
place they will rest next. So he took his weapons, and 
went before them ; and the Interpreter said, God speed, 
Tliose also that belonged to the family sent them awajjf 



2o6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

with many a good wish. So they went on their way 
£uid sang : — 

** This place hath been our second stage % 
Here we have heard and seen 
Those good things, that from age to ag# 
To others hid have been. 

** The dunghill-raker, spider, hen. 
The chicken, too, to me 
Have taught a lesson : let me, then, 
Conformed to it be. 

•*The butcher, garden, and the field» 
The robin and his bait, 
Also the rotten tree, doth yield 
Me argument of weight, 

** To move me for to watch and pray^ 
To strive to be sincere ; 
To take my cross up day by day, 
And serve the Lord with fear." 

Now I saw, in my dream, that these went on, and 
Greatheart before them. So they went, and came to 
the place where Christian's burden fell off his back and 
tumbled into a sepulchre. Here, then, they made a 
pause ; here also they blessed God. 

Now, said Christiana, it comes to my mind what 
was said to us at the gate, to wit, that we should have 
pardon by word and deed: by word, that is, by the 
promise ; by deed, to wit, in the way it was obtained. 
What the promise is, of that I know something ; but 
what it is to have pardon by deed, or in the way that it 
was obtained, Mr. Greatheart, I suppose you know; 
wherefore, if you please, let us hear your discourse 
thereof. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 307 

Great. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon ob- 
tained by some one for another that hath need thereof; 
not by the person pardoned, but in the way, saith an* 
other, in which I have obtained it. So then, to speak 
to the question more at large, the pardon that you, and 
Mercy, and these boys, have attained, was obtained by 
another ; to wit, by him that let you in at the gate. 
And he hath obtained it in this double way ; he hath 
performed righteousness to cover you, and spilt his 
blood to wash you in. 

Che. But if he parts with his righteousness to us, 
what will he have for himself? 

Gbeat. He has more righteousness than you have 
need of, or than he needeth himself, 

Chr. Pray, make that appear. 

Great. With all my heart. But first I must pre- 
mise, that He of whom we are now about to speak, is 
one that has not his fellow. He has two natures in 
oiae person, plain to be distinguished, impossible to be 
divided. Unto each of these natures a righteousness? 
belongeth, and each righteousness is essential to that 
nature ; so that one may as easily cause that nature to 
be extinct, as to separate its justice or righteousnesu 
from it. Of these righteousnesses, therefore, we are not 
made partakers, so as that they, or any of them, should 
be put upon us, that we might be made just, and live 
thereby. Besides these, there is a righteousness which 
this person has, as these two natures are joined in 
one. And this is not the righteousness of the God- 
head, as distinguished from the manhood ; nor the 
righteousness of the manhood, as distinguished from 
the Godhead; but a righteousness which standeth 
the union of both in natures, and may properly be 
called the righteousness that is essential to His being 
prepared of God to the capacity of the mediatory office, 



3o8 THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS. 

which He was to be entrusted with. If He parts with 
His first righteousness, He parts with His Godhead ; if 
He parts with his second righteousness, He parts with 
the purity of His manhood ; if He parts with His thirds 
He parts with that perfection which capacitates Him 
tor the office of mediation. He has therefore another 
righteousness, which standeth in performance, or obedi- 
ence to a revealed will ; and that is what He puts upoi: 
sinners, and that by which their sins are covered. 
Wherefore he saith, "As by one man's disobedience 
many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one 
shall many be made righteous." (Rom. 5 : 19.) 

Chr. But are the other righteousnesses of no use ^o 
us? 

Great. Yes ; for though they are essential to His 
natures and offices, and cannot be communicated unto 
another, yet it is by virtue of them that the righte< )us- 
ness that justifies is for that purpose efficacious. The 
J ighteousness of His Godhead gives virtue to his obedi- 
#nce ; the righteousness of His manhood giveth capa= 
Mlity to His obedience to justify ; and the righteousness 
that standeth in the union of these two natures to His 
office, giveth authority to that righteousness to do the 
work for which it was ordained. So, then, here is a 
righteousness that Christ, as God, has no need of; for 
He is God without it. Here is a righteousness that 
Christ, as man, has no need of to make Him so ; for He 
fs perfect man without it. Again, here is a righteous- 
ness that Christ, as God-man, has no need of; for He is 
perfectly so without it. Here, then, is a righteousness 
that Christ, as God, and as God-man, has no need of 
with reference to Himself, and therefore He can spare 
it ; a justifying righteousness, that He for Himself 
wanfeth not, and therefore giveth it pway. Hence it 
?s called the gift of righteousness. This righteousness, 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 309 

since Christ Jesus the Lord has made Himself under 
the law, must be given away; for the law doth n3t 
only bind him that is under it, to do justly, but to use 
charity. (Rom. 5 : 17.) Wherefore he must, or oug)it 
by the law, if he hath two coats, to give one to him 
that hath none. Now, our Lord indeed hath two coats, 
one for Himself, and one to spare ^ wherefore He freely 
bestows one upon thosn that have nono. And thus, 
Christiana and Mercy, and the rest of you that are here, 
doth your pardon come by deed, or by the work of 
another man. Your Lord Christ is He that worked, 
and hath given away what He wrought for, to the nexn 
poor beggar He meets. But again, in order to pardon 
by deed, there must something be paid to God as a 
price, as well as something prepared to cover us withal. 
Sin has delivered us up to the just curse of a righteous 
law. Now, from this curse, we must be justified by 
way of redemption, a price being paid for the harmtS 
we have done ; and this is by the blood of your Loro, 
who came and stood in j^our place and stead, and died 
your death for your transgressions. Thus has He rar*- 
somed you from your transgressions by blood, and cov- 
ered your p Ikited and deformed souls with righteous 
ness (Rom. 8 : 34) ; for the sake of which, God passeth 
by you and will not hurt you when He comes to jud^- 
the world. (Gab 3 : 13.) 

Chr. This is brave! Now I see that there was 
something to be learned by our being pardoned by 
word and deed. Good Mercy, let us labor to keep this 
in mind ; and, my children, do you remember it also. 
But, sir, was not this it that made my good Christian's 
burden fall from off his shoulders, and that made him 
giv(> three leaps for joy ? 

Great. Yes ; it was the belief of this that cut those 
itriugs that could not be cut by other means » and it 



mjQ THE PILGRIM'S 

was to give him proof of the virtue of this, that he was 
suffered to carry his burden to the cross. 

Chk. I thought so ; for though my heart was light* 
«ome and joyous before, yet It is ten times more light- 
some and joyous now. And I am persuaded by what I 
have felt, though I have felt but little as yet, that \i 
the most burdened man in the world was here, and did 
Bee and believe as I now do, it would make his heart 
the more merry and blithe. 

Great. There is not only comfort and the ease of a 
burden brought to us by the bight and consideration of 
these, but aci en Jeared affection begot in us by it : for 
who can, if he doth but once think that pardon comes 
not only by promise but thus, but be affected with the 
way ajid means of his redemption, and so with the maa 
|:hat hath wrought it for him ? 

Chr. True; methinks it makes my heart bleed to 
think that He should bleed for me. Oh, thou loving 
One: Oh, thou blessed One. Thou deservest to have 
me ; thou hast bought me. Thou deservest to have me 
all: thou hast pai«d for me ten thousand times more 
than I am worth. No marvel th t this made the tears 
stand in my husband's eyes, and that it made him 
trudge so nimbly on. I am persuaded he wished ma 
with him : but, vile wretch that I was, I let him come 
all alone. Oh, Mercy, that thy father and mother were 
aere ; yea, and Mrs. Timorous also : nay, I wish now 
With all my heart that here was Madam Wanton, too* 
Surely, surely, their hearts would be affected; nor 
could the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the 
other, prevail with them to go home again, and refuse 
to become good pilgrims. 

Great. You speak now in the warmth of your 
affections. Will it, think you, be always thus witti 
you ? Besides, this is not communicated to every one^ 



THE PIL GRIM S PR C CRESS. 3 1 1 

nor to every one that did see jour Jesus bleed. There 
were that stood by, and that saw the blood ran from 
His heart to the ground, and yet were so far off this, 
that, instead of lamenting, they laughed at Him, and, 
instead of becoming His disciples, did harden their 
hearts against Him. So that all that you have, my 
daughters, you have by peculiar impression made by a 
divine contemplating upon "what I have spoken to you. 
Bemember, that twas told you, that the hen, by her 
common call, gives no meat to her chickens. This you 
have therefore by a special grace. 

Now I saw, in my dream that they went on until 
they were come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, 
and Presumption, lay and slept in when Christian went 
by on pilgrimage. And behold, they were hanged up 
in irons a little way off on the other side. 

Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and 
conductor. What are these three men? and for what 
are they hanged there? 

Great. These three men were men of very bad 
qualities. They had no mind to be pilgrims them- 
selves, and whomsoever they could, they hindered. They 
were for sloth and folly themselves, and whomsoever 
they could persuade, they made so too; and withal, 
taught them to pi'esume that they should do well at last 
They were asleep when Christian went by; and now you 
go by, they are hanged. 

Mer. But could they persuade any to be of their 
opinion ? 

Great. Yes; they turned several out of the way. 
There was Slowpace that they persuaded to do as they. 
They also prevailed with one Shortwind, with one No- 
heart, with one Lingerafterlust, and with one Sleepy- 
head, and with a young woman, her name was Dull, to 
turn out of the way and become as they. Besides, they 



g^^ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

brought up an ill report of your Lord; persuading 
others that he was a hard taskmaster. They also 
brought up an evil report of the good land ; saying it 
was not half so good as some pretended it was. They 
also began to vilify his servants, and to count the best 
of them meddlesome, troublesome busybodies. Fur- 
ther, they would call the bread of God, husks ; the 
jomforts of his children, fancies ; the travel and laboi 
ibi pilgrims, things to no purpose. 

>Jay, said Christiana, if they were such^ they shal\ 
never be bewailed by me. They have but what they 
deserve ; and I think it is well that they stand so near 
the highway, that others may see and take warning. 
But had it not been well if their crimes had been en- 
giaven in some plate of iron or brass, and left here 
Adhere they did their mischiefs, for a caution to other 
bad men 

GreaI?. So it is, as you may well perceive, if you 
will go a little to the wall. 

Meb. No, no ; let them hang, and their names ro<, 
and their crimes live forever against them. I think tt 
» high favor that they were hanged before we cama 
hither. Who knows else what they might have doutf 
to such poor women as we are ? 

Then she turned it into a song, saying, — 

** Now, then, you three hang there, and be a siga 
To all that shall against the truth combine \ 
And let him that comes after fear this end, 
If unto Pilgrims he is not a friend. 
And tiiou, my soul, of all such men beware, 
That unto holiness opposers are." 

Thus they went on till they came to the foot of th« 
hill DifiQculty : where, again, the good Mr. Greatheart 
took an occasion to tell them of what happened thert 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



313 



when Christian himself went by. So he had them first 
to the spring. Lo, saith he, this is the spring that 
Christian drank of before he went up this hill : and 
then it was clear and good ; but now it is dirty with the 
feet of some that are not desirous that pilgrims here 
should quench their thirst. (Ezek. 34 : 18, 19.) Thereat 
llercy said, And why so envious, trow ? But, said 
their guide, it will do, if taken up and put into a vessel 
that is sweet and good ; for then the dirt will sink to 
the bottom, and the water come out by itself more clear. 
Thus, therefore, Christiana and her companions wer^ 
compelled to do. They took it up, and put it into an 
earthen pot, and so let it stand till the dirt was gone to 
the bottom, and then they drank thereof. 

Next he showed them the two by-ways that were a& 
fhe foot of the hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy lost 
(hemselves. And, said he, these are dangerous paths. 
*.rwo were here cast away when Christian came by ; 
j*nd although, as you see, these ways are since stopped 
np with chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there are those 
that will choose to adventure here, rather than take 
the pains to go up this hill. 

Chr. *' The way of transgressors is hard." Prov^ 
13: 15.) It is a wonder that they can get into these 
ways without danger of breaking their necks. 

Great. They will venture : yea, if at any time any 
of the King's servants do happen to see them, and cIq 
call upon them, and tell them that they are in the 
wrong way, and do bid them beware of the danger, 
then they railingly return them answer, and say, " As 
for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the nam© 
of the King, we will not hearken unto thee ; but we 
will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth out of our 
own mouth." (Jer. 44 : 16, 17.) Nay, if you look a 
little farther, you shall see that these ways are made 



314 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

cautioiiaiy enough, not only by i^nese posts, and ditch, 
and chain, but also by being hedged up : yet they will 
choose to go there. 

Chr. They are idle ; they love not to take pains ; 
up-hill way is unpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled 
unto them, ai3 it is written, " The way of the slothful 
man is as an htdge of thorns." (Pro v. 15 ; 19.) Yea, they 
will rather choose to walk upon a snare than to go up 
this hill, and the rest of this way to the city. 

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, 
and up the hill they went. But before they got to the 
top, Christiana began to pant, and said, I dare say this 
is a breathing hill : no marvel if they that love their 
ease more than thtiir souls choose to themselves a 
smoother way. 

Then said Mercy^ I must sit down : also the least of 
the children began to cry. Come, come, said Great* 
heart, sit not down her^, for a little above is the Prince's 
arbor. Then he took the little boy by th^ hand, and 
led him up thereto. 

When they were come to the arbor, they were very 
willing to sit down, for they were all in a pelting heat. 
Then said Mercy, " How sweet is rest to them that 
labor." (Matt. 11 : 28.) And how good is the Prince 
of Pilgrims to provide such resting-places for them ! 
Of this arbor I have heard much ; but I never saw it 
before. But here let us beware of sleeping ; for, as I 
have heard, it cost poor Christian dear. 

Then said Mr. Greatheart to the little ones. Come, 
my pretty boys, how do you do ^' What think you now 
of going on pilgrimage? Sir, said the least, I was 
almost beat out of heart , but I thank you for lending 
me a hand at my need. And I remember now what 
my mother hath told me, namely, that the way to 
heaven is as a ladder, and the way to hell is as down a 



THE PILGRIIifS PROGRESS. 315 

fiill. But I had rather go up the ladder to life, than 
down the hill to death. 

Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, " To go doTvn 
the hill is easy." But James said (for that was his 
name), The day is coming when, in my opinion, going 
down the hill will be hardest of all. 'Tis a good boy, 
said his master ; thou hast given her a right answer 
Then Mercy smiled ; but the little boy did blush. 

Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bite to sweeten 
your mouths, while you sit here to rest your legs ? for 
I have here a piece of pomegranate, which Mr. Inter- 
preter put into my hand just when I came out of hig 
door. He gave me also a piece of an honeycomb, and a 
little bottle of spirits. I thought he gave you some- 
thing, said Mercy, because he called you aside. Yes, 
so he did, said the other ; but, said Christiana, it shall 
be still as I said it should, when at first we came from 
home : thou shalt be a sharer in all the good that I 
have, because thou so willingly didst become my com- 
panion. Then she gave to them, and they did eat, both 
Mercy and the boys. And said Christiana to Mr. 
Greatheart, Sir, will you do as we ? But he answered, 
You are going on pilgrimage, and presently I shall re- 
turn ; much good may what you have do you : at home 
I eat the same every day. 



THE FOURTH STAGE. 

Now, when they had eaten and drank, and had 
chatted a little longer, their guide said to them. The 
day wears away ; if you think good, let us prepare to 
be going. So they got up to go, and the little boys 
r^nc before ; but Christiana forgot to take her bottle 



g 1 6 THE PILGRIM 'S PROGRESS, 

of spirits with her, so she sent her little boy back til 
fetch it. Then, said, Mercy, I think this is a losing 
place. Here Christian lost his roll ; and here Chris- 
tiana left her bottle behind her. Sir, what is the cauae 
of this ? So their guide made answer, and said, The 
cause is sleep, or forgetfulness : some sleep when they 
should keep awake, and some forget when they should 
remember : and this is the very cause why often, at the 
resting-places, some pilgrims in some things come ofif 
losers. Pilgrims should watch, and remember what 
they have already received, under their greatest enjoy- 
ments ; but, for want of doing so, oftentimes their xfY 
joicing ends in tears, and their sunshine in a cloud .• 
Iritness the story of Christian at this place. 

When they were come to the place where Mistrunt 
and Timorous met Christian, to persuade him to go 
back for fear of the lions, they perceived, as it were, a 
stage ; and before it, towards the road, a broad plane 
with a copy of verses written thereon ; and underneaiii 
the reason of raising up that stage in that place ren- 
dered. The verses were these ; — 

" Let him that sees this stage take heed 
Unto his heart and tongue ; 
Lest, if he do not, here he speed 
As some have long agone," 

The words underneath the verses were : " This stage 
was built to punish those upon, who, through timor- 
ousness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go farther on pil- 
grimage. Also, on this stage both Mistrust and Timor- 
ous were burned through the tongue with a hot iron, 
for endeavoring to hinder Christian on his journey. 

Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of 
the Beloved • " What shall be given unto thee, or what 
shall be done unto ^-Aieen UiAixi false tonaue ? Sharp 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, ^^t 

Arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper." (Psalm 
120 : 3, 4.) 

So they went on till they came within sight of the 
lions. Now Mr. Greatheart was a strong man, so he 
was not afraid of a lion. But, yet when they were 
come up to the place where the lions were, the boys, 
that went before, were now glad to cringe behind, for 
they were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped back, 
and went behind. At this their guide smiled, and said, 
How now, my boys ; do you love to go before when no 
danger doth approach, and love to come behind so soon 
as the lions appear ? 

Now, as they went on, Mr. Greatheart drew his 
f^word, with intent to make a way for the pilgrims in 
^pite of the lions. Then there appeared one that, it 
s^ems, had taken upon him to back the lions ; and he 
mid to the pilgrims* guide, What is the cause of your 
*^oming hither ? Now the name of that man was Grim, 
4»r Bloodyman, because of his slaying of pilgrims ; and 
\\Q was of the race of the giants. 

Then said the pilgrims' guide. These women and 
I children are going on pilgrimage, and this is the way 
th.Qj must go ; and go it they shall, in spite of thee and 
the lions. 

Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go 
therein. I am come forth to withstand them, and to 
that end will back the lions. 

Now, to say the truth, by reason of the fierceness of 
the lions, and of the grim carriage of him that did back 
them, this way had of late lain much unoccupied, and 
was almost grown over with grass. 

Then said Christiana, Though the highways have 
been unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers 
have been made in times past to walk through by-paths, 
it must not be so now I am risen, — " Now I am risen a 
Another in israel.^. (Jud^^es 5 s 6« 7.) 



jlS THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Then he swore, by the lions, that it should ; and 
therefore bid them turn aside, for thej should not have 
passage there. 

But Greatheart their guide made first his approach 
onto Grim, and laid so heavily on him with his sword 
that he forced him to retreat. 

Then said he that attempted to back the lions. Will 
you slay me upon my own ground? 

Great. It is the King's highway that we are in, 
and in his way it is that thou has placed the lions ; but 
these women, and these children, though weak, shall 
hold on their way in spite of thy lions. And with that 
he gave him again a downright blow, and brought him 
upon his knees. With this blow also he broke his hel- 
met, and with the next he cut off an arm. Then did 
the giant roar so hideously that his voice frightened 
fche women, and yet they were glad to see him lie 
jiprawling upon the ground. Now the lions were 
chained, and so of themselves could do nothing. Where- 
xore, when old Grim, that intended to back them, was 
dead, Mr. Greatheart said to the pilgrims. Come now, 
Bnd follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from 
ih^ lions. They therefore went on, but the women 
trembled as they passed by them ; the boys also looked 
PS if they would die ; but they all got by without fur- 
ther hurt. 

Now, when they were within sight of the Porter's 
lodge, they soon came up unto it ; but they made the 
more haste after this to go thither, because it is danger* 
ous travelling there in the night. Sc when they were 
come to the gate the guide knocked, and the Porter 
cried. Who is there ? But as soon as the guide had 
said. It is I, he knew his voice, and came down ; for 
the guide had oft before that come thither as a con« 
!luctor of pilgrims. When he was come down, ha 



THE j^LG RIM'S yR(Jt>ilESS, C^ 

opened the gate ; and seeing the guide standing just 
before it (for he saw not the women, for they were be- 
hind him), he said unto him, How now^ Mr. Greatheart, 
what is your business here so late at night ? 

I have brought, said he, some pilgrims hither, where, 
by my Lord's commandment., they must lodge. I had 
been here some time ago, had I not bet?n opposed by 
the giant that did used to back the lions. But I, aftei 
a long and tedious combat with him, ha\e cut him offf 
and have brought the pilgrims hither in safety. 

POR. Will you not go in, and stay till morning? 

Gbeat. No ; I will return to my Lord to-night. 

Chr. Oh, sir, I know not how to be willing yoii 
should leave us in our pilgrimage. You have been s« 
faithful and so loving to us, you have fought so stoutl;y 
for us, you have been so hearty in counselling of ug\ 
that I shall never forget your favor towards us. 

Then said Mercy, Oh, that we might have thy com- 
pany to our journey's end ! How can such poor womeo 
as we hold out in a way so full of troubles as this waj 
is, without a friend and defender ? 

Then said James, the youngest of the boys. Pray, 
sir, be persuaded to go with us, and help us, because 
we are so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is. 

Great. I am at my Lord's commandment. If he 
shall allot me to be your guide quite through, I will 
willingly wait upon you. But here you failed at firsts 
for when he bid me come thus far with you, then you 
should have begged me of him to have gone quita 
through with you, and he would have granted youi 
request. However, at present I must withdraw ; and 
60, good Christiana, Mercy, and my brave children, 
Adieu. 

Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of 
liez country, and of her kindred. And she said« I camo 



320 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

from the city of Destruction. 7 am a widow woman4 
aud my husband is dead ; his name was Christian, the 
pilgrim. How ! said the Porter, was he your husband? 
Yes, said she, and these are his children ; and this, 
pointing to Mercy, is one of my towns women. Then 
the Porter rang his bell, as at such times he is wont, 
and there came to the door one of the damsels, whose 
name was Hamblemind ; and to her the Porter said, 
Go tell it within, that Christiana, the wife of Christian, 
and her children, are come hither on pilgrimage. She 
went in, therefore, and told it. But, oh, what a noise 
for gladness was there within, when the damsel did but 
drop that word out of her mouth ! 

So they came with haste to the Porter, for Christiana 
stood still at the door. Then some of the most grave 
^id unto her. Come in, Christiana ; come in, thou wife 
of that good man ; come in, thou blessed woman ; come 
in, with all that are with thee. So she went in, and 
ihey followed h^^ that were her children and com- 
jtanions. Now, they were gone in, they were had 

into a large room, wir . they were bidden to sit down : 
^o they sat down, and the chief of the house were called 
to see and welcome the guests. Then they came in, 
a ad, understanding who they were, did salute each one 
with a kiss, and said, Welcome, ye vessels of the grace 
of God ; welcome to us, your friends. 

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the 
pilgrims were weary with their journey, and also made 
faint with the sight of the fight, and of the terrible 
lions, they desired, as soon as might be, to prepare to 
go to rest. Nay, said those of the family, refresh your- 
selves first with a morsel of meat; for they had pre» 
pared for them a lamb, with the accustomed sauce be- 
longing thereto (Exod. 12 : 21 ; John 1 : 29) ; for the 
Porter had heard before of their coming, and had told 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 32t 

it to them within. So when they had supped, and 
ended their prayer with a psalm, they desired the^ 
might go to rest. 

But let us, said Christiana, if we may be so bold as 
to choose, be in that chamber that was my hasband'3 
when he was here. So they had them up thither, and 
they all lay in a room. When they were at rest, Chris- 
tiana and Mercy entered into discourse about things 
that were convenient. 

Chr. Little did I think once, when my husband 
went on pilgrimage, that I should ever have followed 
him. 

Mer. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, 
and in his chamber to rest, as you do now. 

Chr. And much less did I ever think of seeing his 
face with comfort, and of worshiping the Lord the King 
with him ; and yet, now I believe I shall. 

Mer. Hark ! Don't you hear a noise ? 

Chr. Yes. It is, as I believe, a noise of music, for 
■joy that we are here. 

Mer. Wonderful! Music in the house, music in the 
heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that we are here ! 

Thus they talked a while, and then betook them- 
selves to sleep. So in the morning, when they were 
awake, Christiana said to Mercy, What was the matter, 
that you did laugh in your sleep to-night ? I suppose 
you were in a dream. 

Mer. So I was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are 
you sure I laughed ? 

Chr. Yes ; you laughed heartily. But prithee, 
Mercy, tell me thy dream. 

Mer. I was dreaming that I sat all alone in a soli- 
tary place, and was bemoaning of the hardness of my 
heart. Now I had not sat there long, but methought 
many were gathered about to see me, and to hear whu6 



322 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

it was that I said. So they hearkened, and I went oil 

bemoaning the hardness of my heart. At this, some ol 
them laughed at me, some called me fool, and some 
began to thrust me about. With that, methought I 
looked up and saw on ^ coming with wings towards me* 
So he came directly to me, and said, Mercy, what ailetb 
thee ? Now, when he had heard me make my complaint 
he said, Peace be to thee : be also wiped my eyes with 
his handkerchief, and clad me in silver and gold. He 
put a chain about my neck, and earrings in my ears, 
and a beautiful crown upon my head. (Ezek. 16 s 11- 
13.) Then he took me by the hand, and said, Mercy, 
come after me. So he went up, and I followed, till we 
came at a golden gate. Then he knocked ; and when 
they within had opened, the man went in, and I fol- 
lowed him up to a throne, upon which One sat ; and he 
said to me, Welcome, daughter. The place looked 
bright and twinkling, like the stars, or rather like the 
gun, and I thought that I saw your husband there ; so 
I awoke from my dream. But did I laugh ? 

Chr. Laugh ! aye, and well you might, to see your- 
self so well. For you must give me leave to tell you 
that I believe it was a good dream ; and that, as you 
have begun to find the first part true, so you shall find 
the second at last. " God speaks once, yea, twice, yet 
man perceiveth it not ; in a dream, in a vision of the 
.night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumber- 
ings upon the bed.'* (Job 33 : 14, 15.) We need notj 
when abed, to lie awake to talk with God ; he can visit 
ns while we sleep, and cause us then to hear his voice. 
Our heart oftentimes wakes when we sleep, and God 
can speak to that, either by words, by proverbs, by 
signs and similitudes, as well as it one was awake. 

Mer. Well, I am glad of mv dream ; for I nope ere 
A)ng to see it fulfilled, to the makiusr me laugh again. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 323 

Chr. I think it is now high time to rise, and to 
know what we must do. 

Mer. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us 
willingly accept of the proffer. I am the more willing 
to stay a while here, to grow better acquainted with 
these maids. Methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charityr 
have very comely and sober countenances. 

Chr. We shall see what they will do. 

So, when they were up and ready, they came down, 
and they asked one another of their rest, and if it was 
comfortable or not. 

Mer. Very good, said Mercy : it was one of the best 
night's lodgings that ever I had in my life. 

Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be per- 
suaded to stay here a while, you shall have what the 
bouse will afford. 

Aye, and that with a very good will, said Charity. 

So they consented, and stayed there about a month 
O'^ above, and became very proiStable one to another, 
i^ind because Prudence would see how Christiana had 
bcought up her children, she asked leave of her to 
catechize them. So she gave her free consent. Then 
si 16 began with her youngest, whose name was James. 

And she said, Come, James, canst thou tell me who 
made thee? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
Holy Ghost. 

Prud. Good boy. And canst thou tell who saved 
thee? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
Holy Ghost. 

Prttd. Good boy still. But how doth God the 
Father save thee ? 

James. By His grace. 

pRUD. How doth God the Son save thee? 



324 'T^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

James. By His righteousness, death, and blood, and 
life. 

Prud. And how doth God the Holy Ghost save thee? 

James. By His illumination, by His renovation, and 
by His preservation. 

Then said Prudence to Christiana, " You are to be 
commended for thus bringing up your children. 1 
suppose I need not ask the rest these questions, since 
the youngest of them can answer them so well. I will 
therefore now apply m3"self to the next youngest. 

Then she said, Come, Joseph (for his name was 
Joseph), will you let me catechize you ? 

Joseph. With all my heart. 

Prud. What is' man ? 

Joseph. A reasonable creature, so made by God, ag 
D^y brother said. 

Prud. What is supposed by this word, saved ? 

Joseph. That man, by sin, has brought himself into 
»4 state of captivity and misery. 

Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the 
3Mnity ? 

Joseph. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant 
that none can pull us out of its clutches but God ; and 
that God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him 
indeed out of this miserable state. 

Prud. What is God's design in saving of poor men? 

Joseph. The glorifying of His name, of His grace, 
and justice, &c., and the everlasting happiness of His 
creature. 

Prud. Who are they that will be saved? 

Joseph. They that accept of His salvation. 

Prud. Good boy, Joseph ; thy mother hath taught 
thee well, and thou hast hearkened unto what she has 
jBaid unto thee. 

Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. %2% 

but one, Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should 
catechize you ? 

Sam. Yes, forsooth, if you please. 

Prud. What is heaven? 

Sam. a place and state most blessed, because God 
dwelleth there. 

Prud. What is hell? 

Sam. a place and state most woful, because it is 
the dwelling-place of sin, the devil, and death. 

Prud. Wiiy wouldst thou go to heaven ? 

Sam. That I may see God, and serve Him without 
weariness : that I may see Christ, and love Him ever- 
lastingly ; that I may have that fullness of the Holy 
Spirit in me which I can by no means here enjoy. 

Prud. A very good boy, and one that has learned well, 

Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose 
name was Matthew ; and she said to him, Come, Mat- 
thew, shall I also catechize you ? 

Matt. With a very good will. 

Prud. I ask then, if there was ever anything that 
had a being antecedent to or before God ? 

Matt. No, for God is eternal ; nor is there anything, 
excepting Himself, that had a being until the begin- 
ning of the first day. For in six days the Lord made 
heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is. 

Prud. What do you think of the Bible ? 

Matt. It is the holy word of God. 

Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what 
you understand ? 

Matt. Yes, a great deal. 

Prud. What do you do when you meet with places 
therein that you do not understand ? 

Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also 
that he will please to let me know all therein that he 
knows will be for my good. 



326 "^HE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Prttd. How "believe you as touching the resurrec* 
tion of the dead ? 

Matt. I believe they shall rise the same that was 
buried ; the same in nature, though not in corruption. 
And I believe this upon a double account : first, be- 
cause God has promised it ; secondly, because he is 
able to perform it. 

Then said Prudence to the boys. You must still 
hearken to your mother ; for she can teach you more. 
You must also diligently give ear to what good talk you 
shall hear from others : for your sakes do they spe#<k 
good things. Observe also, and that with carefulness^ 
what the heavens and the earth do teach you; but 
especially be much in meditation of that book which 
was the cause of your lather's becoming a pilgrim. I, 
for my part, my children, will teach yoa what I can 
while you are here, and shall be glad if you will ask 
me questions that tend to godly edifying. 

Now, by that these pilgrims had been at this place 
a week, Mercy had a visitor that pret3nded some good 
will unto her, and his name was Mr. Brisk ; a man of 
some breeding, and that pretended to religion, but a 
man that stuck very close to the world. So he came 
once or twice, or more, to Mercy, and offered love unto 
her. Now Mercy was of a fair countenance, and there- 
fore the more alluring. Her mind also was to be 
always busying of herself in doing ; for when she had 
nothing to do for herself, she would be making hose 
and garments for others, and would bestow them upon 
those that had need. And Mr. Brisk not knowing 
where or how she disposed of what she made, seemed 
to be greatly taken, for that he found her never idle. 
I will warrant her a good housewife, quoth he to him- 
self. 

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens 



THE PILG RIM'S PROGRESS. 32^ 

that were of the house, and inquired of them concern*- 
ing him, for they did know him better than she. b'ct 
they told her that he was a very busy young man, an d 
one who pretended to religion, but was, as they fearecf^ 
a stranger to the power of that which is good. 

Nay, then, said Mercy, I will look no more on him ; 
for I purpose never to have a clog to my soul. 

Prudence then replied, that there needed no matter 
of great discouragement to be given to him ; her con- 
tinuing so as she had begun to do for the poor, would 
quickly cool his courage. 

So the next time he comes he finds her at her old 
work, making things for the poor. Then said he, 
What, always at it ? Yes, said she, either for myself o f 
for others. And what canst thou earn a day? said he 
I do these things, said she, that I may be rich in good 
works, laying up in store for myself a good foundation 
against the time to come, that I may lay hold on eter- 
nal life. (1 Tim. 6 : 17-49.) Why, prithee, what doesi 
thou with them ? said he. Clothe the naked, said she. 
With that his countenance fell. So he forebore to 
come at her again. And when he was asked the reason 
why, he said, that Mercy was a pretty lass, but troubled 
with ill conditions. 

When he had left her, Prudence said. Did I not tell 
thee that Mr. Brisk would soon forsake thee ? yea, he 
will rise up an ill report of thee ; for, notwithstanding 
his pretence to religion, and his seeming love to Mercy, 
yet Mercy and he are of tempers so different that I be- 
lieve they will never come together. 

Mer. I might have had husbands before now, though 
I spoke not of it to any ; but they were such as did not 
like my conditions, though never did any of them find 
fault with my person. So they and I could not agree. 

Pbud. Mercy in our days is but little set by, any 



325 THE I>ILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

further than as to its name : the practice which is se^ 
forth by thy conditions, there are but few that can 
abide. 

Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me, I will die 
unmarried, or my conditions shall be to me as a hus- 
band : for I cannot change my nature , and to have one 
who lies cross to me in this, that I purpose never to ad- 
mit of as long as I live. I had a sister named Bounti- 
ful, that was married to one of these churls, but he and 
she could never agree. But because my sister was re- 
solved to do as she had begun, that is, to show kind^ 
ness to the poor, therefore her husband first cried hei 
jlown at the cross, and then turned her out of his 
doors. 

PRUD. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you. 

Mer. Yes, such a one as he was ; and of such as 
he the world is now full. But I am for none of them 
all. 

Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, 
and his sickness was sore upon him, for he was much 
pained in his bowels, so that he was with it at times 
pulled, as it were, both ends together. There dwelt 
also, not far from thence, one Mr. Skill, an ancient and 
well-approved physician. So Christiana desired it, and 
they sent for him, and he came. When he was entered 
the room, and had a little observed the boy, he con- 
cluded that he was sick of the gripes. Then he said to 
his mother. What diet has Matthew of late fed upon ? 
Diet ! said Christiana, nothing but what is wholesome. 
The physician answered. This boy has been tampering 
with something that lies in his stomach undigested, and 
that will not away without means. And I tell you he 
must be purged, or else he will die. 

Then said Samuel, Mother, what was that which 
my brother did gather up and eat as soon as we were 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 329 

come from tne gate that is at the head of this way? 
You know that there was an orchard on the left hand, 
on the other side of the wall, and some of the trees hung 
over the wall, and my brother did pluck and eat. 

True, my child, said Christiana, he did take thereof 
and did eat. Naughty boy as he was, I chid him, and 
yet he would eat thereof. 

Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was not 
wholesome food ; and that food, to wit, that fruit, is 
even the most hurtful of all. It is the fruit of Beel- 
zebub's orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you 
of it ; many have died thereof. 

Then Christiana began to cry ; and she said. Oh, 
naughty boy ! and, Oh, careless mother ! what shall I 
do for my son ? 

Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected ; the boy 
may do well again, but he must purge and vomit. 

Chr. Pray, sir, try the utmost of your skill with 
him, whatever it costs. 

Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. 
So he made him a purge, but it was too weak; it 
was said it was made of the blood of a goat, the ashes 
of a heifer, and some of the juice of hyssop. (Heb. 9 ; 
13, 19 : 10, 1-4.) When Mr. Skill had seen that that 
purge was too weak, he made one to the purpose. It 
was made ex came et sanguine Christi * (John 6 : 54-57 ; 
Heb. 9 : 14), (you kiiow physicians give strange medi- 
cines to their patients) ; and it was made into pills, 
with a promise or two, and a proportionable quantity 
of salt. (Mark 9: 49.) Now, he was to take them 
three at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of 
the tears of repentance. (Zech. 12 : 10.) 

When this potion was prepared, and brought to the 
hoy, he was loth to take it, though torn with the griped 

• Of the flesh and blood of Chiiat. 



,:y THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

as if he should be pulled in pieces. Come, come, said 
the physician, you must take it. It goes against my 
stomach, said the boy. I must have you take it said 
his mother. I shall vomit it up again, said the boy. 
Pray, sir, said Christiana to Mr. Skill, how does it 
taste ? It has no ill taste, said the doctor ; and with 
that she touched one of the pills with the tip of her 
tongue. Oh, Matthew, said she, this potion is sweetei 
than honey. If thou lovest thy mother, if thou lovest 
thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy 
life, take it. So, with much ado, after a short prayer 
for the blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it 
wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge ; it 
caused him to sleep, and to rest quietly ; it put him 
into a fine heat and breathing sweat, and did quite rid 
1dm of his gripes. So in a little time lie got up, and 
\<ralked about with a staff, and would go from room to 
joom, and talk with Prudence, Piety, and Charity, of 
Ids distemper, and how he was healed. 

So, when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. 
Skill, saying, Sir, what will content you for your pains 
and care to and of my child ? And he said. You must 
p^y the master of the College of Physicians (Heb. 13 : 
1 1-15), according to rules made in that case and pro- 
vided. 

But, sir, said she, what is this pill good for else ? 

Skill. It is a universal pill ; it is good against all 
the diseases that pilgrims are incident to ; and when it 
is well prepared, it will keep good, time out of mind. 

Chr. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of thems 
for if I can get these, I will never take other physic. 

Skill. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as 
"i^ell as to cure when one is sick. Yea, I dare say it, 
a7id stand to it, that if a man will but use this physic as 
he should, it will make him live forever. (John 6 : oXe) 



THE PILGRIM* S PROGRESS. 331 

But, good Christiana, thou must give these pills no 
other way but as I have prescribed ; for if you do, they 
will do no good. So he gave unto Christiana physio 
for herself, and her boys, and for Mercy ; and bid Mat- 
thew take heed how he ate any more green plums ; and 
kissed them and went his way. 

It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, 
that if at any time they would, they should ask her 
scrae questions that might be profitable, and she would 
say something to them. 

Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, why 
for the most part, physic should be bitter to our 
palates. 

Peud. To show how unwelcome the word of God 
and the effects thereof are to a carnal heart. 

Matt. Why does physic, if it does good, purge, and 
cause to vomit? 

Peud. To show that the Word, when it works, ef- 
fectually, cleanseth the heart and mind. For, look, 
what the one doth to the body, the other doth to the 
soul. 

Matt. What should we learn by seeing the flame 
of our fire go upwards, and by seeing the beams and 
sweet influences of the sun strike downwards ? 

Peud. By the going up of the fire, we are taught 
to ascend to heaven by fervent and hot desires. And 
by the sun sending his heat, beams, and sweet infla 
ences downwards, we are taught the Saviour of tlit? 
world, though high, reaches down with his grace aiid 
iove to us below- 

Matt. Whence have the clouds their water? 

pRUD. Out of the sea. 

Matt. What may we learn from that? 

Peud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine 
froiD God. 



J32 TTTE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Matt. Why do they empty themselves upon the 
earth ? 

Prtjd. To show that ministers should give out what 
they know of God to the world. 

Matt. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun? 

Prud. To show that the covenant of God's grace is 
confirmed to us in Christ. 

Matt. Why do the springs come from the sea to us 
througti the earth? 

Prud. To show that the grace of God comes to us 
through the body of Christ. 

Matt. Why do some of the springs rise out of the 
tops of great hills ? 

Prud. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring 
up in some that are great and mighty, as well as in 
many that are poor and low. 

Matt. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candl 5- 
wick? 

Prud. To show that unless grace doth kindle upcn 
the heart, there will be no true light of life in us. 

Matt. Why are the wick, and tallow, and all, spent 
to maintain the light of the candle ? 

Prud. To show that body and soux, and all, should 
be at the service of, and spend themselves to maintain 
in good condition, that grace of God that is in us. 

Matt. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast 
with her bill ? 

Prud. To nourish her young ones with her blood, 
and thereby to show that Christ the blessed so loved 
His young (His people), as to save them from death 
by His blood 

Matt. What may one learn by hearing the cock to 
crow? 

Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's 
repentance. The cock's crowing shows, also, that ds^y 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 333 

is coming on. Let, then, the crowing of the cock put 
thee in mind of that last and terrible day of judgment. 

Now about this time their month was out ; where- 
fore they signified to those of the house, that it was con- 
venient for them to put up and be going. Then said 
Joseph to his mother, It is proper that you forget not 
to send to the house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray him to 
grant that Mr. Greatheart should be sent unto us, that 
he may be our conductor for the rest of the way. Good 
boy, said she, I had almost forgot. So she drew up a 
petition, and prayed Mr. Watchful, the porter, to send 
it by seme fit man to her good friend Mr. Interpreter ; 
who, when it was come, and he had seen the contents 
of the petition, said to the messenger, Go, t3ll them 
that I will send him. 

When the family where Christiana was, saw that 
they had a purpose to go forward, they called the whole 
house together, to give thanks to their King for sending 
i\i them such profitable guests as these. Which done, 
they said unto Christiana, And shall we not show thee 
Si>mething, as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on which 
thou mayest meditate when thou art upon the way ? 
So they took Christiana, her children, and Mercy, into 
the closet, and showed them one of the apples that Eve 
ate of, and tJiat she also did give to her husband, and 
that for the eating of which they were both turned out 
of paradise, and asked her what she thought that was. 
Jhen Christiana said, It is food or poison, I know not 
which. So they opened the matter to her, and she held 
up her hands and wondered. (Gen. 3:6; Rom. 7 : 24.) 

Then they had her to a place and showed her 
Jacob's ladder. (Gen. 28 : 12.) Now at that time there 
were some angels ascending upon it. So Christiana 
looked and looked to see the angels go up : so did the 
xest of the company. Then they were going into bxt 



J34 ^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGPErS. 

other place, to show them something else , but James 
said to his mother, Pray, bid them stay here a little 
longer, for this is a curious sight. So they turned 
again, and stood feeding their eyes 'ththis so pleasing 
a prospect. 

After this, they had them into a place where did 
hang up a golden anchor. So they bid Christiana take 
it down ; for said they. You shall have it with you, for 
it is of absolute necessity that you should, that you may 
lay hold of that within the veil (Heb. 6 : 19), and stand 
steadfast in case you should meet with turbulent 
freather. (Joel 3 : 16.) So they were glad thereof. 

Then they took them, and had them to the mount 
upon which Abraham our father offered up Isaac his 
son, and showed them the altar, the wood, the fire, and 
the knife ; for they remain to be seen to this very day, 
(Gen. 22: 9.) When they had seen it, they held up 
their hands, and blessed themselves, and said, Oh, what 
a man for love to his Master, and for denial to himself, 
was Abraham ! 

After they had showed them all these things, Pru- 
dence took them into a dining-room, where stood a pair 
of excellent virginals ; * so she played upon them, and 
turned what she had showed them into this excellent 
song, saying. — 

** Eve's apple we have showed you ; 

Of that be you aware ! 
You have seen Jacob's ladder, too, 

Upon which Angels are. 
An Anchor you received have ; 

But let not these suffice, 
Until with Abraham you have gave 

Your best a sacrifice." 

Now, about this time, one knocked at the door; SO 

* A musical iustrumeat. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS:. 335 

the Porter opened, aud behold, Mr. Greatheart was 
there. But when he was come in, what joy was there 1 
for it came now afresh again into their minds, how but 
a while ago he had slain old Grim Bloodyman the giant, 
and had delivered them from the lions. 

Then said Mr. Greatheart to Christiana and to 
Mercy, My Lord has sent each of you a bottle of wine, 
and also some parched corn, together with a couple of 
pomegranates ; he has also sent the boys some figs and 
raisins ; to refresh you in your way. 

Then they addressed themselves to their journey, 
and Prudence and Piety went along with them. When 
they came to the gate, Christiana asked the Porter if 
any late went by. He said, No; only one, some time 
since, who also told me, that of late there had been a 
great robbery committed on the King's highway as you 
go. But, said he, the thieves are taken, and will 
shortly be tried for their lives. Then Christiana and 
Mercy were afraid; but Matthew said. Mother, fear 
nothing, as long as Mr. Greatheart is to go with us, 
and to be our conductor. 

Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, I am much 
obliged to you for all the kindnesses that yoti have 
showed to me since I came hither ; and, also, for that 
you have been so loving and kind to my children. I 
know not how to gratify your kindness; wherefore, 
pray, as a token of my respect to you, accept of this 
small mite. So she put a gold angel * in his hand ; and 
be made her a low obeisance, and said, " Let thy gar- 
ments be always white ; and let thy head want no oint- 
ment." (Eccles. 9 : 8.) Let Mercy live and not die, 
and let not her works be few. (Deut. 33 : 6.) And to 

* A gold angel was a coin of the value of ten shillings sterling ; and, ac- 
wrding to the comparative value of money in Bunyan's time, equal at least 
o a guinea at the present time. 



336 THE PTLGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

the boys he said, Do you fly youthful lusts, and follow 
after godliness with them that are grave and wise (2 
Tim. 2 : 22) : so shall you put gladness into your 
mother's heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober- 
minded. So they thanked the Porter, and departed. 



THE FIFTH STAGE. 

Now I saw, in my dream, that they went forward 
Until they were come to the brow of the hill ; where 
Piety, bethinking herself, cried out, Alas, I have forgot 
what I intended to bestow upon Christiana and her 
companions : I will go back and fetch it. So she ran 
and fetched it. While she was gone, Christiana thought 
she heard, in a grove a little way ofP on the right hand, 
a most curious melodious note, with words much like 

these : — 

" Through all my life thy favor is 
So franlily show'd to me ; 
That in thy house for evermore 
My dwelling-place shall be." 

And listening still, she thought she heard another 
answer it, saying, — 

" For why ? The Lord our God is good ; 
His mei<jy is forever sure : 
His truth at all times firmly stood. 
And shall from age to age endure." 

So Christiana asked Prudence who it was that made 
those curious notes. (Song 2 : 11, 12.) They are, 
answered she, our country birds : they sing these notes 
but seldom, except it be at the spring, when the flowers 
appear, and the sun shines warm, and then you may 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 337 

hear tliem all day long. I often, said she, go out to 
hear them : we also ofttimes keep them tame in our 
house. They are very fine company for us when we are 
melancholy: also, they make the woods, and groves, 
and solitary places, desirable to be in. 

By this time Piety was come again. So she said to 
Christiana, Look here, I have brought thee a scheme of 
of all those things that thou hast seen at our house, 
upon which thou mayest look when thou findest thyself 
forgetful, and call those things again to remembrance 
for th}^ edification and comfort. 

Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley 
of Humiliation. It was a steep hill, and the way was 
slippery ; but they were very careful ; so they got down 
pretty well. When they were down in the valley, 
Piety said to Christiana, This is the place where Chris- 
tian, your husband, met with the foul fiend Apollyon, 
and where they had that dreadful fight that they had. 
I know you cannot but have heard thereof. But be of 
good courage; as long as you have heie Mr. Great- 
heart to be your guide and conductor, we hope you will 
fare the better. So when these two had committed the 
pilgrims unto the conduct of their guide, he went 
forward, and they went after. 

Then said Mr. Greatheart, We need not be so afraid 
of this valley, for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we 
procure it to ourselves. It is true, Christian did here 
meet with Apollyon, with whom he also had a sore com- 
bat : but that fray was the fruit of those slips which he 
got in his going down the hill ; for they that get slips 
there, must look for combats here. And hence it is, 
that this valley has got so hard a name. For the com- 
mon people, when they hear that some frightful thing 
has befallen such a one in such a place, are of opinion 
that that place is haunted with some foul fiend or evil 



338 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

spirit ; when, alas ! it is for the fruit of their own doing 
that such things do befall them there. This Valley of 
Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a place as any the 
crow flies over ; and I am persuaded, if we could hit 
upon it, we might find, somewhere hereabouts, some- 
thing that might give us an account why Christian was 
so hardly beset in this place. 

Then said James to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a 
pillar, and it looks as if something was written thereon ; 
let us go and see what it is. So they went, and found 
there written, " Let Christian's slips, before he came 
hither, and the battles that he met with in this place, 
be a warning to those that come after." Lo, said their 
guide, did not I tell you that there was something here- 
abouts that would give intimation of the reason why 
Christian was so hard beset in this place ? Then turn- 
ing himself to Christiana, he said. No disparagement to 
Christian more than to many others whose hap and lot 
it was. For it is easier going up than down this hill, 
and that can be said but of few hills in all these parts 
of the world. But we will leave the good man ; he is 
at rest : he also had a brave victory over his enemy* 
Let Him grant, that dwelleth above, that we fare no 
worse, when we come to be tried, than he. 

But we will come again to this Valley of Humilia- 
tion. It is the best and most fruitful piece of ground 
in all these parts. It is fat ground, and, as you see, 
consisteth much in meadows ; and if a man was to come 
here in the summer-time, as we do now, if he knew 
not anything before thereof, and if he also delighted 
himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that which 
would be delightful to him. Behold how green this 
valley is ; also, how beautiful with lilies. (Song 2 : 1.) 
I have known many laboring men that have got good 
estates in this Vailsy cf Humiliation ; for Grod resistcth 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 335 

the proud, but giveth grace to the humble. (James 
4 : 6 ; 1 Pet. 5 : 5.) Indeed, it is a very fruitful soil^ 
and doth bring forth by handfuls. Some also have 
wished that the next way to their Father's house were 
here, that they might be troubled no more with either 
hills or mountains to go over ; but the way is the way, 
and there is an end. 

Now, as they were going along and talking, they 
espied a boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy was 
in very mean clothes, but of a fresh and well-favored 
countenance ; and as he sat by himself, he sung. Hark, 
said Mr. Greatheart, to what the shepherd's boy saitbo 
So they hearkened, and he said, — 

*' He that is down need fear no fall ; 
He that is low no pride ; 
He that is humble ever shall 
Have God to be his guide. 

•* I am content with what I have, 
Little be it or much ; 
And, Lord ! contentment still I crave^ 
Because thou savest such. 

•* Fullness to such a burden is. 
That go on pilgrimage : 
Here little, and hereafter bliss. 
Is best from age to age." 

Then said the guide. Do you hear him ? I will dare 
to say this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of 
that herb called heart' s-ease in his bosom, than he that 
is clad in silk and velvet. But we will proceed in our 
discourse. 

In this valley our Lord formerly had his country- 
house: he loved much to be here. He loved also to 
walk these meadows, for he found the air was pleasant* 
Besides, here a man shall be free from the noise, and 



340 THE PTLGRTM'S PROGRESS, 

from the hurryings of this life: all states are full oi 
noise and confusion ; only the Valley of Humiliation is 
that empty and solitary place. Here a man shall not 
be so let and hindered in his contemplation as in other 
places he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody 
walks in but those that love a pilgrim's life. And 
though Christian had the hard hap to meet here with 
ApoUyon, and to enter with him in a brisk encounter, 
yet I must tell you, that in former times men have met 
with angels here (Hos. 12: 4, 5), have found pearls 
here (Matt. 13 : 46), and have in this place found the 
words of life. 

Did I say our Lord had here in former days his 
country-house, and that he loved here to walk ? I will 
add — in this place, and to the people that love and 
trace these grounds, he has left a yearly revenue, to be 
faithfully paid them at certain seasons, for their main- 
tenance by the way, and for their further encourage- 
ment to go on in their pilgrimage. 

Now, as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Great- 
heart, Sir, I perceive that in this valley my father and 
Apollyon had their battle ; but whereabout was the 
fight? for I perceive this valley is large. 

Great. Your father had the battle with Apollyon 
at a place yonder before us, in a narrow passage, just 
beyond Forgetful Green. And indeed that place is the 
most dangerous place in all these parts. For if at any 
time pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when they for- 
get what favors they have received, and how unworthy 
they are of them. This is the place, also, where others 
have been hard put to it. But more of the place when 
we are come to it ; for I persuade myself that to thia 
day there remains either some sign of the battle, or 
some monument to testify that such a battle there wa^ 
fought. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 341 

Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this valley 
as I have been anywhere else in all our journey : the 
place, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in 
such places, where there is no rattling with coaches, 
nor rumbling with wheels. Methinks, here one may, 
without much molestation, be thinking what he is, 
whence he came, what he has done, and to what the 
King has called him. Here one may think, and break 
at heart, and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes be* 
come as the fish-pools of Heshbon. (Song 7 : 4.) They 
that go rightly through this valley of Baca, make it a 
well ; the rain that God sends down from heaven upon 
them that are here, also filleth the pools. This valley 
is that from whence also the King will give to his 
their vineyards ; and they that go through it shall 
sing, as Christian did, for all he met with Apollyon. 
(Psalm 84: 4-7; Hos. 2: 15.) 

'Tis true, said their guide ; I have gone through 
this valley many a time, and never was better than 
when here. I have also been a conductor to several 
pilgrims, and they have confessed the same. " To this 
man will I look," saith the King, " even to him that is 
poor, and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my 
word." (Isa. m : 2.) 

Now they were come to the place where the afore- 
mentioned battle was fought. Then said the guide to 
Christiana, her children, and Mercy, This is the place; 
on this ground Christian stood, and up there came 
Apollyon against him. And, look, did I not tell you? 
here is some of your husband's blood upon these stones 
to this day. Behold, also, how here and there are 
yet to be seen upon the place, some of the shivers of 
Apollyon's broken darts. See, also, how they did beat 
the ground with their feet as they fought, to make good 
their places against each other; how also with their 



5>2 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

by-blows they did split the very stones in pieces 
Verily, Christian did here play the man, and showed 
aimself as stout as Hercules could, had he been here, 
even he himself. When Apollyon was beat, he made 
his retreat to the next valley, that is called the Yalley 
of the Shadow of Death, unto which we shall come 
aeon. Lo, yonder also stands a monument, on which 
is engraven this battle, and Christian's victory, to his 
fame throughout all ages. So, because it stood just on 
the wayside before them, they stepped to it, and read 
the writing, which, word for word, was this : — 

" Hard by here was a battle fought. 
Most strange, and yet most true ; 
Christian and Apollyon sought 
Each other to subdue. 

•* The man so bravely play'd the maQ^ 
He made the fiend to fly ; 
Of which a monument I stand. 
The same to testify." 

When they had passed by this place, they cane 
opon the borders of the Shadow of Death. This valley 
was longer than the other ; a place also most strangely 
haunted with evil things, as many are able to testify. 
But these women and children went the better through 
it, because they had daylight, and because Mr. Great 
heart was their conductor. 

When they were entering upon this valley, they- 
thought they heard a groaning, as of dying men ; a 
very great groaning. They thought also that they did 
hear words of lamentation, spoken as of some in ex- 
treme torment. These things made the boys to quake ; 
the women also looked pale and wan ; but their guide 
bid them be of good comfort. 

80 they went on a little farther, and they thought 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



343 



that they felt the ground begin to shake under them, 
as if some hollow place was there. They heard also a 
kind of hissing, as of serpents, but nothing as yet ap- 
peared. Then said the boys, Are we not yet at the 
end of this doleful place ? But the guide also bid them 
be of good courage, and look well to their feet; lest 
haply, said he, you be taken in some snare. 

Now James began to be sick ; but I think the cause 
thereof was fear : so his mother gave him some of that 
glass of spirits that had been given her at the Inter- 
preter's house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill had 
prepared, and the boy began to revive. Thus they 
went on till they came to about the middle of the val- 
ley ; and then Christiana said, Methinks I see something 
yonder upon the road before us, a thing of a shape such 
as I have not seen. Then said Joseph, Mother, wh.'tt 
is it? An ugly thing, child, an ugly thing, said she. 
But, mother, what is it like? said he. 'Tis like I can- 
not tell what, said she ; and now it is but a little way 
off. Then said she, It is nigh. 

Well, well, said Mr. Greatheart, let them that are 
most afraid keep close to me. So the fiend came on, 
and the conductor met it ; but when it was come to 
him, it vanished to all their sights. Then remembered 
they what had been said some time ago : " Resist the 
devil, and he will flee from you." (James 4 : 7.) 

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed. 
But they had not gone far, before Mercy, looking be- 
hind her, saw, as she thought, something most like a 
lion, and it came at a great padding pace after : and it 
had a hollow voice of roaring ; and at every roar it 
gave, it made the valley echo, and all their hearts to 
ache, save the heart of him that was their guide. So it 
came up and Mr. Greatheart went behind, and put the 
pilgrims all before him. The lion also came oa apacCi 



344 "^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

and Mr. Greatheart addressed himself to give him battle. 
(1 Pet. 5 : 8, 9.) But when he saw that it was deter- 
mined that resistance should be made, he also drew 
back, and came no farther. 

Then they went on again, and their conductor went 
before them, till they came to a place where was cast 
np a pit the whole breadth of the way ; and before they 
could be prepared to go over that, a great mist and a 
darkness fell upon them, so that they could not see. 
Then said the pilgrims, Alas ! what now shall we do ? 
But their guide made answer. Fear not ; stand still, and 
see what an end will be put to this also. So they stayed 
there, because their path was marred. They then also 
thought that they did hear more apparently the noise 
and rushing of the enemies : the fire, also, and the 
smoke of the pit were much easier to be discerned. 
Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now I see what my 
poor husband went through. I have heard much of 
this place, but I never was here before now. Poor 
Qian ! he went here all alone in the night; he had night 
almost quite through the way ; also, these fiends were 
busy about him, as if they would have torn him in 
pieces. Many have spoken of it : but none can tell 
what the valley of the Shadow of Death should mean 
until they come in it themselves. The heart knoweth 
its own bitterness ; and a stranger intermeddleth not 
with its joy. (Prov. 11 : 10.) To be here is a fearfuJ 
thing. 

Great. This is like doing business in great waters, 
or like going down into the deep. This is like being 
in the heart of the sea, and like going down to the 
bottoms of the mountains. Now, it seems as if the 
earth, with its bars, were about us forever. But let 
them that walk in darkness, and have no light, trust 
in the name of the Lord, and stay upon their God 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 345 

(laa. 50 : 10.) For my part, as I have told you already, 
I have gone often through this valley, and have been 
much harder put to it than now I am : and yet you see 
I am alive. I would not boast, for that I am not my 
owa saviour ; but I trust we shall have a good deliver- 
ance. Come, let us pray for light to Him that can 
lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke not only 
these, but all the Satans in hell. 

So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and 
Ieliveran«e, for there was now no let in their way ; no, 
^ot there where but now they were stopped with a pit. 
Tet they were not got through the valley. So they 
went on still, and met with great sticks and loathsome 
smells, to the great annoj^ance of them. Then said 
Mercy to Christiana, It is not so pleasant being here 
as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's, or at the house 
where we lay last. 

Oh, but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go 
through here, as it is to abide here always ; and, foT 
aught I know, one reason why we must go this way to 
the house prepared for us, is, that our home might be 
?nade the sweeter to us. 

Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide ; thou hast no^ 
spoke like a man. Why, if ever I get out here again, 
said the boy, I think I shall prize light and good way 
better than I ever did in all my life. Then said the 
guide. We shall be out by and by. 

So on they went, and Joseph said. Can not we see 
to the end of this valley as yet ? Then said the guide. 
Look to your feet, for we shall presently be among the 
snares. So they looked to their feet, and went on : but 
they were troubled much with the snares. Now, when, 
they were come among the snares, they espied a man 
cast into the ditch on the left hand, with his flesh all 
rent and torn. Then said the guide. That is one Heed' 



346 "^^E PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

less, that was going this way : he has lain there a great 
whil\ There was one Takeheed with him when he 
was *aken and slain, but he escaped their hands. You 
can not imagine how many are killed hereabouts ; and 
yet men are so foolishly venturous as to set out lightly 
on pilgrimage, and to come without a guide. Poor 
Cb istian ! It was a wonder that he here escaped: but 
he was beloved of his God. Also, he had a good heart 
of his own, or else he could never have done it. 

Now they drew towards the end of this way ; and 
just there where Christian had seen the cave when he 
went by, out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This 
Maul did use to spoil young pilgrims with sophistry ; 
and he called Greatheart by his name, and said unto 
him, How many times have you been forbidden to do 
these things ? Then said Mr. Greatheart, What things ? 
What things ! quoth the giant ; you know what things : 
but I will put an end to your trade. 

But, pray, said Mr. Greatheart, before we fall to it, 
let us understand wherefore we must fight. Now the 
women and children stood trembling, and knew not 
what to do. Quoth the giant, You rob the country, 
and rob it with the worst of thefts. These are but gen- 
-erals, said Mr. Greatheart ; come to particulars, man. 

Then said the giant. Thou practise^t the craft of a 
kidnapper : thou gatherest up women and children, and 
carriest them into a strange country, to the weakening 
of my master's kingdom. But now Greatheart replied, 
I am a servant of the God of heaven : my bii?>iness i« to 
persuade sinners to repentance. I am commardr^d to 
do my endeavors to turn men, women, and chi''dren, 
from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan 
unto God ; and if this be indeed the ground of thy 
quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou wilt. 

Then the giant came up, and Mr. Greatheart went 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 347 

to meet him : and as he went he drew his sword, but 
the giant had a club. So, without more ado, they fell 
to it, and at the first blow the giant struck Mr. Great- 
heart down upon one of his knees. With that the 
women and children cried out. So Mr. Greatheart re- 
covering himself, laid about him in full lusty manner, 
and gave ihe giant a wound on his arm. Thus he 
fought for the space of an hour, to that height of heat 
that the breath came out of the giant's nostrils as the 
heat doth out of a boiling caldron. 

Then they sat down to rest them ; but Mr. Great- 
heart betook himself to prayer. Also, the women and 
children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that 
the battle did last. 

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they 
both fell to it again : and Mr. Greatheart, with a blow, 
fetched the giant down to the ground. Nay, hold, let 
me recover, quoth he : so Mr. Greatheart fairly let him 
get up. So to it they went again, and the giant missed 
but little of all to breaking Mr. Greatheart's skull with 
his club. 

Mr. Greatheart seeing that, runs to him in the full 
heat of his spirit, and pierceth him under the fifth rib. 
With that the giant began to faint, and could hold up 
his club no longer. Then Mr. Greatheart seconded his 
blow, and smit the head of the giant from his shoulders. 
Then the women and children rejoiced, and Mr. Great- 
lieart also praised God for the deliverance He had 
wrought. 

When this was done, they amongst them erected a 
pillar, and fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrota 
under in letters that passengers might read,— 

** He that did wear this head was 000 
That pilgrims did misuse ; 



34£ THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

He stopped their way, he spared nonOf 
He did them all abuse ; 

Until that I, Greatheart, arose, 
The pilgrim's guide to be ; 

Until that I did him oppose 
That was their enemy." 



THE SIXTH STAGE. 



Now I saw that they went on to the ascent that wa4 
a little way off, cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims 
That was the place from whence Christian had the first 
sight of Faithful, his brother. Wherefore, here the}< 
sat down and rested. They also here did eat and drink, 
and make merry, for that they had gotten deliveranod 
from this so dangerous an enemy. As they sat thus 
and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he had cauglt 
no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Greatheart, No, 
save a little on my flesh : yet that also shall be so fat 
from being to my detriment, that it is at present a pro(i 
of my love to my master and you, and shall be a meani 
by grace, to increase my reward at last. 

Chr. But were you not afraid, good sir, when yon 
saw him come with his club ? 

Great. It is my duty, said he, to mistrust my own 
ability, that I may Lave reliance on Him who is stronger 
than all. 

Chr. But what did you think when he fetched you 
down to the ground at the first blow? 

Great. Why, I thought, quoth he, that so my Mas- 
ter Himself was served, and yet He it was that con 
quered at last. (2 Cor. 4: 10, 11 ; Rom. 8 : 37.) 

Matt. When ycu all have thought what you plea;&ft 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 34Q 

I think God has been wonderfully good unto us, both 
in bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering vd 
out of the hand of this enemy. For my part, I see nf 
reason why we should distrust our God anymore, sinc"^ 
He has now, and in such a place as this, given us suc'K 
testimony of His love. Then they got up, and wen*^ 
forward. 

Now a little before them stood an oak ; and under 
it, when they came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast 
asleep. They knew that he was a pilgrim by his 
clothes, and his staff, and his girdle. 

So the guide, Mr. Greatheart, awaked him ; and the 
old gentleman, as he lifted up his eyes, cried out. What's 
the matter ? Who are you ; and what is your business 
here? 

Great. Come, man, be not so hot ; here are non« 
but friends. 

Yet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard 
and will know of them what they are. Then said th*^< 
guide, My name is Greatheart. I am the guide of these 
pilgrims that are going to the Celestial Country. 

Then said Mr. Honest, I cry you mercy. I feared 
that you had been of the company of those that some 
time ago did rob Littlefaith of his money; but, now I 
look better about me, I perceive you are honester 
people. 

Great. Why, what would or could you have done 
to have helped yourself, if indeed we had been of that 
company ? 

Hon. Done ! Why, I would have fought as long as 
breath had been in me. And, had I so done, I am sure 
you could never have given me the worst on't ; for a 
Christian can never be overcome, unless he shall yield 
of himself. 

Well said, Father Honest, quoth the guide ; for by 



jjo THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

this I know thou art a cock of the right kind, for then 
hast said the truth. 

Hon. And by this, also, I know that thou knowest 
what "^rue pilgrimage is ; for all others do think that 
we are the soonest overcome of any. 

Great. Well, now we are so happily met, pray, let 
me crave your name, and the name of the place you 
came from. 

Hon. My name I cannot tell you ; but, I came from 
the town of Stupidity. It lieth about four degrees be* 
yond the city of Destruction. 

Great. Oh, are you that countryman? Then I 
deem T have half a guess of you. Your name is Old 
Honesty, is it not? 

So the old gentleman blushed, and said. Not honesty 
in the abstract, but Honest is my name ; and I wish 
that my nature may agree to what I am called. But, 
sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess that 
I am such a man, since I came from such a place ? 

Great. I had heard of you before, by my Master ^ 
for He knows all things that are done on the earth. 
But I have often wondered that any should come from 
your place ; for your town is worse than is the city of 
Destruction itself. 

Hon. Yes, we lie more oft from the sun, and so are 
more cold and senseless. But were a man in a moun- 
tain of ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness will arise 
upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw ; and thus 
it has been with me. 

Great. I believe it. Father Honest, I believe it ; for 
I know the thing is true. 

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims 
with a holy kiss of charity, and asked them their names, 
and how they had fared since they set out on their pil- 
grimage. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 35* 

Then said Christiana, My name I suppose you have 
heard of; good Christian was my husband, and thesa 
four are his children. 

But can you think how the old gentleman was taken, 
when she told him who she was? He skipped, he 
smiled, he blessed them with a thousand good wishes,! 
saying,— 

Hon. I have heard much of your husband, and of 
his travels and wars which he underwent in his days. 
Be it spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband 
rings all over these parts of the world. His faith, his 
courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, have 
made his name famous. Then he turned him to the 
boys, and asked them of their names, which they told 
him. Then said he unto them, Matthew, be thou like 
Matthew the publican, not in vice, out in virtue. (Matt- 
10 : 3.) Samuel, said he, be thou like Samuel the pro- 
phet, a man of faith and prayer. (Psalm 99 : 6.) Joseph, 
said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's house, chaste, 
and one that flees from temptation. (Gen. 39.) And 
James, be thou like James the just, and like James the 
brother of our Lord. (Acts 1 : 13, 14.) 

Then they told him of Mercy, and how she had left 
her town and her kindred to come along with Chris* 
tiana and with her sons. At that the old honest man 
said, Mercy is thy name : by mercy shalt thou be sus- 
tained and carried through all those difficulties that 
shall assault thee in th" way, till thou shalt come 
thither where thou shalt look the Fountain of Mercy 
in the face with comfort. All this while the guide, 
Mr. Greatheart, was very well pleased, and smiled upon 
his companions. 

Now, as they walked along together, the guide 
auked the old gentleman if he did not know one IVIr. 
P'earing, that came on pilgrimage out of his parts. 



5^2 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had the 
root of the matter in him ; but he was one of the most 
troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days. 

Great. I perceive you knew him, for you have 
given a very right character of him. 

Hon. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his ; 
I was with him most an end ; when he first began to 
think upon what would come upon us hereafter, I was 
with him. 

Great. I was his guide from my master's house to 
the gates of the Celestial City. 

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one. 

Great. I did so ; but I could very well bear it ; for 
men of my calling are oftentimes intrusted with the 
conduct of such as he was. 

Hon. Well, then, pray let us hear a little of him, 
and how he managed himself under your conduct. 

Great. Why, he was always afraid that he should 
come short of whither he had a desire to go. Every- 
tJiing frightened him that he heard anybody speak of, 
if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it. I 
heard that he lay roaring at the Slough of Despond for 
above a month together ; nor durst he, for all he saw 
several go over before him, venture, though they, many 
of them, offered to lend him their hands. He would 
not go back again, neither. The Celestial City — he 
said he should die if he came not to it ; and yet he was 
dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled at every straw 
that anybody cast in his way. Well, after he had lain 
at the Slough of Despond a great while, as I have told 
you, one sunshiry morning, I don't know how, he ven- 
tured, and so got over ; but when he was over, he would 
scarce believe it. He had, I think, a Slough of Despond 
in his mind, a slough that he carried everywhere with 
him, or else he could never have been as he was. So 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. ^53 

he came up to the gate, you know what I mean, that 
stands at the head of this way, and there, also, he stood 
a great while before he would venture to knock. When 
the gate was opened, he would give back, and give 
place to others, and say that he was not worthy. For, 
for all he got before some to the gate, yet many of 
them went in before him. There the poor man would 
stand shaking and shrinking ; I dare say it would have 
pitied one's heart to have seen him. Nor would he go 
back again. At last he took the hammer that hanged 
on the gate in his hand, and gave a small rap or two ; 
then one opened to him, but he shrunk back as before. 
He that opened stepped out after him, and said. Thou 
trembling one, what wan test thou ? With that he fell 
down to the ground. He that spoke to him wondered 
to see him so faint, so he said to him. Peace be to thee ; 
up, for I have set open the door to thee ; come in, for 
thou art blessed. With that he got up, and went in 
trembling ; and when he was in, he was ashamed to 
show his face. Well, after he had been entertained 
there a while, as you know how the manner is, he was 
bid go o» his way, and also told the way he should 
take. So he went on till he came to our house ; but as 
he behaved himself at the gate, so he did at my master 
the Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout in the cold 
a good while, before he would adventure to call ; yet he 
would not go back : and the nights were long and cold 
then. Nay, he had a note of necessity in his bosom to 
Ts^'^ master to receive him, and grant him the comfort of 
his house, and also to allow him a stout and valiant 
conductor, because he was himself so chicken-hearted 
a man ; and yet, for all that, he was afraid to call at 
the door. So he lay up and down thereabouts, till, 
poor man, he was almost starved ; yea, so great was his 
dejection, that though he saw several others, for knock- 



354 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

mg, get in, yet he was afraid to venture. At last, t 
think, I looked out of the window ; and perceiving a 
man to be up and down about the door, I went out to 
him, and asked what he was ; but, poor man, the water 
stood in his eyes ; so I perceived what he wanted. I 
went therefore in, and told it in the house, and we 
showed the thing to our Lord : so he sent me out again, 
to entreat him to come in ; but, I dare say, I had hard 
work to do it. At last he came in : and I will say that 
for my Lord, he carried it wonderfully lovingly to him. 
There were but a few good bits at the table, but some 
of it was laid upon his trencher. Then he presented 
the note; and my Lord looked thereon, and said his 
desire should be granted. So, when he had Ijeen there 
a good while, he seemed to get some heart, and to be a 
little more comfortable. For my master, j^ou must 
know, is one of very tender bowels, especially to them 
that are afraid ; wherefore he carried it so towards him 
as migh '< tend most to his encouragement. Well, when 
he had had a sight of tne things of the place, and was 
ready to take his journey to go to the city, my Lord, 
as he did to Christian before, gave him a bottle of 
spirits, and some comfortable things to eat. Thus we 
set forward, and I went before him ; but the man was 
but of few words, only he would sigh aloud. 

When we were come to where the three fellows 
were hanged, he said that he doubted that that would 
be his end also. Only he seemed glad when he saw the 
cross and sepulchre. There, I confess, he desired to 
stay a little to look ; and he seemed for a while after to 
be a little cheery. When he came to the hill Difficulty, 
he made no stick at that, nor did he much fear the 
lions ; for you must know, that his troubles were not 
about such things as these ; his fear was about his ac* 
ceptance at last. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 355 

I got him at the house Beautiful, I think, before he 
was willing. Also, when he was in, I brought him ac- 
quainted with the damsels of the place ; but he was 
ashamed to make himself much in company. He de- 
sired much to be alone ; yet he always loved good talk, 
and often would get behind the screen to hear it. He 
also loved much to see ancient things, and to be ponder- 
ing them in his mind. He told me afterwards, that he 
lo\ ed to be in those two houses from which he came 
last, to wit, at the gate, and that of the Interpreter, but 
that he durst not be so bold as to ask. 

When we went also from the house Beautiful, down 
the hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he went down 
as well as ever I saw a man in m}/ life ; for he cared 
not how mean he was, so he might be happy at last. 
Yea, I think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that 
valley and him ; for I never saw him better in all his 
pilgrimage than he was in that valley. 

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and 
kiss the very flowers that grew in this valley. (Lam. 
8 : 27-29.) He would now be up every morning by 
break of day, tracing and walking to and fro in the 
valley. 

But when he was come to the entrance of the Val- 
ley of the Shadow of Death, I thought I should have 
lost my man : not for that he had any inclination to go 
back ; that he always abhorred ; but he was ready to 
die for fear. Oh, the hobgoblins will have me ! the 
hobgoblins will have me ! cried he ; and I could not 
beat him out of it. He made such a noise, and such an 
outcry here, that had they but heard him, it was enough 
to encourage them to come and fall upon us. 

But this I took very great notice of, that this valley 
was as quiet when we went through it, as ever I knew 
it before or since. I suppose those enemies here had 



356 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

now a special check from our Lord, and a command not 
to meddle until Mr. Fearing had passed over it. 

It would be too tedious to tell you all : we will 
therefore only mention a passage or two more. When 
he was come to Vanity Fair, I thought he would have 
fought with all the men in the fair. I feared there we 
should have been knocked on the head, so hot was he 
against the fooleries. Upon the Enchanted Ground he 
was very wakeful. But when he was come at the river 
where was no bridge, there again he was in a heavy 
case. Now, now, he said, he should be drowned for- 
ever, and so never see that face with comfort that he 
had come so many miles to behold. 

And here also I took notice of what was very re- 
markable : the water of that river was lower at this 
time than ever I saw it in all my life. So he went over 
at last, not much above wetshod. When he was going 
up to the gate, I began to take leave of him, and to 
wish him a good reception above. So he said, I shall, 
I shall. Then parted we asunder, and I saw him no 
inore. 

Hon. Then it seems he was well at last r 

Great. Yes, yes ; I never had doubt about him. He 
was a man of a choice spirit, only he was always kept 
very low; and that made his life so burdensome to him- 
self, and so troublesome to others. (Psalm 88.) He 
was, above many, tender of sin : he was so afraid of 
doing injuries to others, that he often would deny him- 
self of that which was lawful, because he would not 
offend. (Rom. 14 : 21 ; 1 Cor. 8 : 13.) 

Hon. But what should be the reason that such a 
good man should be all his days so much in the dark ? 

Great. There are two sorts of reasons for it. One 
is, the wise God will have it so : some must pipe, and 
6ome must weep. (Matt. 11 : 16.) Now Mr. Fearing 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 357 

«ras one that played upon the bass. He and his fellows 
Bound the sackbut, whose notes are more doleful than 
the notes of other music are : though indeed, some say, 
the bass is the ground of music. And for my part, I 
care not at all for that profession which begins not in 
heaviness of mind. The first string that the musician 
usually touches is the bass, when he intends to put all 
in tune. God also plays upon this string first, when 
He sets the soul in tune for himself. Only there was 
the imperfection of Mr. Fearing : he could play upon 
no other music but this till towards his latter end. 

[I make bold to talk thus metaphorically for the 
ripening of the wits of young readers, and because, in 
the book of Revelation, the saved are compared to a 
company of musicians, that play upon their trumpets^ 
and harps, and sing their songs before the throne. 
Rev. 5 : 8 ; 14 : 2, 3.] 

Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see 
by the relation which you have given of him. Difficul- 
ties, lions, or Vanity Fair, he feared not at all. It was 
only sin, death, and hell, that were to him a terror, be- 
cause he had some doubts about his interest in that 
Celestial Country. 

Great. You say right. Those were the things that 
were his troublers ; and they, as you have well ob- 
served, arose from the weakness of his mind thereabout, 
not from weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a 
pilgrim's life. I dare believe that, as the proverb is, ha 
could have bit a firebrand, had it stood in his v^ay ,• but 
the things with which he was oppressed, no man ever 
yet could shake off with ease. 

Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr. Fearing 
has done me good. I thought nobody had been like 
me ; but I see there was some semblance betwixt thia 
good man and me ; only we differed in two things. HIm 



358 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

troubles were so great that they broke out ; but mine 
I kept within. His also lay so hard upon him they 
made him that he could not knock at the houses pro- 
vided for entertainment ; but my trouble was always 
such as made me knock the louder. 

Mer. If I might also speak my heart, I must say 
that something of him has also dwelt in me. For I have 
ever been more afraid of the lake, and the loss of a 
place in Paradise, than I have been of the loss of other 
things. O, thought I, may I have the happiness to have 
a habitation there ! 'Tis enough, though I part with 
all the world to win it. 

Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that made 
me think that I was far from having that within me 
which accompanies salvation. But if it was so wit a 
such a good man as he, why may not it also go wed 
with me ? 

No fears no grace, said James. Though there is not 
always grace where there is the fear of hell, yet, to be 
sure, there is no grace where there is no fear of God. 

Great. Well said, James ; thou hast hit the mark, 
For the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom ; and", 
to be sure, they that want the beginning, have neithe^r 
middle nor end. But we will here conclude our di.5- 
course of Mr. Fearing, after we have sent after him this 
farewell. 

** Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear 

Thy God, and wast afraid 
Of doing anything, while here, 

That would have thee betrayed. 
And didst thou fear the lake and pit ? 

Would others do so too ! 
For as for them that want thy wit, 

They do themselves undo." 

Now I saw that they still went on in their talk* 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 355 

For after Mr. Greatheart had made an end with Mr. 
Fearing, Mr. Honest began to tell them of another, but 
his name was Mr. Selfwill. He pretended himself to 
be a pilgrim, said Mr. Honest ; but I persuade myself 
he never came in at the gate that stands at the head of 
the way. 

Gbeat. Had you ever any talk with him about it ? 

Hon. Yes ; more than once or twice ; but he would 
always be like himself, self-willed. He neither cared 
for man, nor argument, nor yet example. What his 
mind prompted him to, that he would do, and nothing 
else could he be got to do. 

Great. Pray, what principles did he hold ? for \ 
suppose you can tell. 

Hon. He held that a man might follow the vices as 
well as the virtues of pilgrims ; and that if he did both, 
he should be certainly saved. 

Great. How ? If he had said, it is possible for th«? 
best to be guilty of the vices, as well as to partake of 
the virtues of pilgrims, he could not much have been 
blamed ; for, indeed, we are exempted from no vice al> 
solutely, but on condition that we watch and strive. 
But this, I perceive, is not the thing ; but if I under- 
stand you right, your meaning is, that he was of opia- 
ion that it was allowable so to be. 

Hon. Aye, aye ; so I mean, and so he believed and 
practised. 

Great. But what grounds had he for his so saying? 

Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his 
warrant. 

Great. Prithea, Mr. Honest, present us with a few 
particulars. 

Hon. So I will. He said, to have to do with other 
men's wives had been practiced by David, God's be- 
loved ; and therefore he could do it. He said, to havo 



^5o THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

more women than one was a thing that Solomon prao 
ticed, and therefore he could do it. He said, that 
Sarah and the godly mid wives of Egypt lied, and so 
did saved Rahab, and therefore he could do it. He 
said that the disciples went at the bidding of their 
Master, and took away the owner's ass, and therefore 
he could do so too. He said, that Jacob got the inher 
itance of his father in a way of guile and dissimulation, 
and therefore he could do so too. 

Great. High base, indeed ! And are you sure he 
was of this opinion ? 

Hon. I heard him plead for it, bring Scripture for 
it, bring arguments for it, &c. 

Great. An opinion that is not fit to be with any 
allowance in the world \ 

Hon. You must understand me rightly. He did not 
say that any man might do this ; but that they who had 
the virtues of those that did such things, might also do 
the same. 

Great. But what more false than such a conclusion? 
For this is as much as to say, that because good men 
heretofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had 
allowance to do it of a presumptuous mind ; or that if, 
because a child, by the blast of the wind, or for that it 
stumbled at a stone, fell down and defiled itself in the 
mire, therefore he might wilfully lie down and wallow 
like a boar therein. Who could have thought that any 
one could so have been blinded by the power of lust ? 
But what is written must be true : they " stumble at 
the word, being disobedient ; whereunto also they were 
appointed." (1 Pet. 2; 8.) His supposing that such 
may have the godly men's virtues, who addict them- 
selves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong as the 
other. To eat up the sin of God's people (Hos. 4 : 8^ 
as a dog eats up filth, is no sign that one is possessed 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 361 

witb their virtues. Nor can I believe that one who is 
of thi5 opinion can at present have faith or love in him. 
But I know you have made strong objections against. 
him. Prithee, what can he say for himself ? 

Hon. Why, he says to do this by way of opinion, 
seems abundantly more honest than to do it, and yet, 
hold contrary to it in opinion. 

Great. A very wicked answer. For though to let 
loose the bridle to lusts, while our opinions are against 
such things, is bad ; yet, to sin, and plead a toleration 
ao to do, is worse ; the one stumbles beholders accident- 
ally, the other leads them into the snare. 

Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that have 
mot this man's mouth ; and that makes going on pil- 
grimage of so little esteem as it is. 

Great. You have said the truth, and it is to be la- 
mented : but he that feareth the King of Paradise shall 
come out of them all. 

Chr. There are strange opinions in the world. I 
know one that said, it was time enough to repent when 
we come to die. 

Great. Such are not over wise : that man would 
have been loath, might he have had a week to run 
twerty miles in his life, to defer his journey to the last 
houi of that week. 

Hon. You say right ; and yet the generality of them 
who count themselves pilgrims do indeed do thus. I 
am, as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller in 
this road many a day , and I have taken notice of many 
things. 

I have seen some that have set out as if they would 
drive all the world before them, who yet have, in a 
a few days, died as they in the wilderness, and so never 
got sight of the promised land. I have seen some that 
Slave promised nothing at first setting out to be pilgrims,. 



362 ^TffS PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

and who one would have thought could not have lived 
a day, that have yet proved very good pilgrims. I have 
seen some who have run hastily forward, that again 
have, after a little time, run just as fast back again. I 
have seen some who have spoken very well of a pil- 
grim's life at first, that after a while have spoken as 
much against it. I have heard some, when they first 
set out for Paradise, say positively, there is such a 
place, who, when they have been almost there, have 
come back again, and said there is none. I have heard 
some vaunt what they would do in case they should be 
opposed, that have, even at a false alarm, fled faith, the 
pilgrim's way, and all. 

Now, as they were thus on their way, there came 
one running to meet them, and said. Gentlemen, and 
J ou of the weaker sort, if you love life, shift for your- 
selves, for the robbers are before you. 

Then said Mr. Greatheart, They be the three thfxt 
siet upon Littlefaith heretofore. Well, said he, we are 
;eady for them. So they went on their way. Now 
I hey looked at every turning when they should have 
laet with the villains ; but whether they heard of Mr. 
(.rreatheart, or whether they had some other game, they 
Clime not up to the pilgrims. 

Christiana then wished for an inn to refresh herself 
and her children, because they were weary. Then said 
Mr. Honest, There is one a little before us, where a 
rery honorable disciple, one Gains, dwells. (Rom. 16 : 
23.) So they all concluded to turn in thither i and the 
rather, because the old gentleman gave him so good a 
report. When they came to the door they went in, not 
knocking, for folks use not to knock at the doors of an 
inn. Then they called for the master of the house, and 
he came to them. So they asked if they might lie ther* 
that oighU 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 363 

Gaius . Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men, for my 
house is for none but pilgrims. 

Then were Christiana, Mercy, and the boys the 
fflaore glad, for that the innkeeper was a lover of pil- 
grims. So they called for rooms, and he showed them 
one for Christiana and her children and Mercy, and an- 
other for Mr. Greatheart and the old gentleman. 

Then said Mr. Greatheart, Good Gains, what hast 
thou for supper ? for these pilgrims have come far to- 
day, and are weary. 

It is late, said Gains, so we can not conveniently go 
out to seek food ; but such as we have you shall be 
welcome to, if that will content. 

Great. We will be content with what thou hast in 
the house ; forasmuch as I have proved thee, thou art 
never destitute of that which is convenient. 

Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose 
siame was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready supper 
for so many pilgrims. This done, he comes up again, 
saying. Come, my good friends, you are welcome to me, 
and I am glad that I have a house to entertain you in : 
and while supper is making ready, if you please, let us 
entertain one another with some good discourse. So 
they all said. Content. 

Then said Gains, Whose wife is this aged matron '^ 
and whose daughter is this young damsel ? 

Gkeat. This woman is the wife of one Christian, a 
pilgrim of former times ; and these are his four children. 
The maid is one of her acquaintance, one that she hath 
persuaded to come with her on pilgrimage. The boys 
take all after their father, and covet to tread in his 
steps ; yea, if they do but see any place where the old 
pilgrim hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministereth 
joy to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tre*»'d iu the 
same. 



364 ^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife, and are 
these Christian's children ? I knew your husband's 
father, yea, also his father's father. Many have been 
good of this stock *, their ancestors dwelt first at An- 
tioch. (Acts 11 : 26.) Christian's progenitors (I sup- 
pose you have heard your husband talk of them) were 
very worthy men. They have, above any that I know, 
showed themselves men of great virtue and courage for 
the Lord of the pilgrims, his ways, and them that loved 
him. I have heard of many of your husband's relations* 
that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth, 
Stephen, that was one of the first of the family from 
whence your husband sprang, was knocked on the head 
with stones. (Acts 7 : 59, 60.) James, another of this 
generation, was slain with the edge of the sword. (Acts 
12 : 2.) To say nothing of Paul and Peter, men an- 
ciently of the family from whence your husband came, 
there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions ; Roma- 
Dus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones ; and 
Poly carp, that played the man in the fire. There was 
he that was hanged up in a basket in the sun for the 
wasps to eat ; and he whom they put into a sack, and 
cast into the sea to be drowned. It would be impossi- 
ble utterly to count up all of that family who have 
suffered injuries and death for the love of a pilgrim's 
life. Nor can I but be glad to see that thy husband 
Las left behind him four such boys as these. I hope 
they will bear up their father's name, and tread in their 
father's steps, and come to their father's end. 

Great. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads : they seem 
to choose heartily their father's ways. 

Gatus. That is it that I said. Wherefore Christian's 
family is like still to spread abroad upon the face of the 
ground, and yet to be numerous upon the face of the 
^arth ; let Christiana look out some damsels for he? 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 365 

Bons, to whom they may be betrothed, &c., that the 
name of their father, and the house of his progenitors, 
may never be forgotten in the world. 

Hon. 'Tis pity his family should fall and be ex- 
tinct. 

Gaius. Fall it can not, but be diminis led it may % 
but let Christiana take my advice, and that is the waj 
to uphold it. And, Christiana, said this innkeeper, I 
am glad to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, 
a lovely couple. And if I may advise, take Mercy into 
a nearer relation to thee : if she will, let her be given 
to Matthew, thy eldest son. It is the way to preserve 
a posterity in the earth. So this match was concluded, 
and in process of time they were married ; but more of 
that hereafter. 

Gaius also proceeded, and said, I will now speak on 
the behalf of women, to take away their reproach. Foi 
as death and the curse came into the world by a woman 
(Gen. 3), so also did life and health. God sent fort\i 
his Son, made of a woman. (Gal. 4 : 4.) Yea, to show 
how much they that came after did abhor the act of 
the mother, this sex in the Old Testament coveted 
<)hildren, if happily this or that woman might be tho 
mother of the Saviour of the world. I will say ag-ain, 
that when the Saviour was come, women rejoiced in 
him, before either man or angel. (Luke 1 : 42-46.) 1 
read not that ever any man did give unto Christ so 
much as one groat ; but the women followed him and 
ministered to him of their substance. (Luke 8 : 2, 3.) 
'Twas a woman that washed his feet with tears (Luke 
7 : 37-50), and a woman that anointed his body at the 
burial. (John 11 : 2 ; 12 : 3.) They were women who 
wept when he was going to the cross (Luke 23 : 27), 
and women that followed him from the cross (Matt. 27i 
65, 56 ; L'lke 23 : 55), and sat over against his sepul 



3<56 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

chre when he was buried. (Matt. 27 : 61.) They were 
women that were first with him at his resurrection- 
morn (Luke 24 : 1), and women that brought tidings 
first to his disciples that he was risen from the dead. 
(Luke 24 • 22, 23.) Women, therefore, are highly fav- 
ored, and ,^ how by these things that they are sharers 
with us in the grace of life. 

Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was 
almost ready, and sent one to lay the cloth, and the 
trenchers, and to set the salt and bread in order. 

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of 
this forerunner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater 
appetite for my food than I had before. 

Gaius. So let all ministering doctrines to thee in 
this life beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the sup- 
per of the great King in his kingdom , for all preach- 
ing, books, and ordinances here, are but as the laying 
of the trenchers, and the setting of salt upon the board, 
when compared with the feast which our Lord will 
make for us when we came to his house. 

So supper came up. And first a heave-shoulder and 
a wave-breast were set on the table before them ; to 
show that they must begin their meal with prayer and 
praise to God. The heave-shoulder David lifted up his 
heart to God with ; and with the wave-breast, where 
his heart lay, with that he used to lean upon his harp 
when he played. (Lev. 7 : 32-34; 10 : 14, 15; Psalm 
25 , 1 , Heb. 13 : 15.) These two dishes were very 
fresh and good, and they all ate heartily thereof. 

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as 
red as blood. (Deut. 32 : 14 ; Judges 9:13; John 
15 : 5.) So Gaius said to them, Drink freely : this is 
the true juice of the vine, that makes glad the heart of 
God and man. So they drank and were merry. 

The next was a dish of milk well crumbed ; Gaiod 



THE PIL GRIM 'S PROGRESS, 367 

said, Let the boys have that, that they may grow there- 
by. (1 Pet. 2 : 1, 2.) 

Then they brought up, in course, a dish of buttei 
and honey. Then said Gains, Eat freely of this, for 
this is good to cheer up and strengthen your judgments 
and understandings. This was our Lord's dish when 
he was a child : " Butter and honey shall he eat, that 
he may know to refuse the evil, and choose the good." 
(Isa. 7 : 15.) 

Then they brought them up a dish of apples, and 
they were very good-tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, 
May we eat apples, since it was such by and with 
which the serpent beguiled our first mother ? 

Then said Gains, — 

*' Apples were they with which we were beguil'd, 
Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls defil'd : 
Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood ; 
To eat such, when commanded, does us good ; 
Drink of His flagons then, thou church, His dove, 
And eat His apples, who are sick of love." 

Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, because I 
a while since was sick with the eating of fruit. 

Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick; but 
not what our Lord has tolerated. 

While they were thus talking, they were presented 
with another dish, and it was a dish of nuts. (Song 
6 ; 11.) Then said some at the table, Nuts spoil tender 
teeth, especially the teeth of children. Which, when 
Gaius heard, he said, — 

" Hard texts are nuts (I will not call them cheaters), 
Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters : 
Open the shells, and you shall have the meat : 
They here are brought for you to crack and eat." 

Then were they very merry, and sat at the table 



368 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

a long time, talking of many things. Then said th« 
old gentleman, My good landlord, while we are crack- 
ing your nuts, if you please, do you open this riddle :— 

" A man there was, though some did count him mad> 
The more he cast away the more he had." 

Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good 
Gains would say. So he sat still a while, and then 
thus replied ; — 

" He who bestows his goods upon the poor, 
Shall have as much again, and ten times more." 

Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did not think 
you could have found it out. 

Oh, said Gains, I have been trained up in this way 
a great while : nothing teaches like experience. I have 
learned of my Lord to be kind, and have found by ex- 
perience that I have gained thereby. There is thaiG 
scattereth, and yet increaseth ; and there is that with- 
boldeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty. 
There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing : 
there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches. 
(Prov. 11 : 24 ; 13 : 7.) 

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, 
and said, Mother, this is a very good man's house : let 
us stay here a good while, and let my brother Matthew 
be married here to Mercy, before we go any farther. 
The which Gains the host overhearing, said. With a 
very good will, my child. 

So they stayed there more than a month, and Meroy 
was given to Matthew to wife. While they stayed 
here, Mercy, as her custom was. would be making: coats 
and garments to give to the poor, by which she brought 
a very good report upon the pilgrims. 

But to return again to our story. After supper th3 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 3^^ 

lads desired a bed, for they were weary with travelling. 
Then Gains called to show them their chamber; but 
Mercy said, I will have them to bed. So she had them 
to bed, and they slept well : but the rest sat up all night: 
for Gains and they were such suitable company, that 
they could not tell how to p^irt. After much talk of 
their Lord, themselves, and their journey, old Ml 
Honest, he that put forth the riddle to Gains, began to 
nod. Then said Greatheart, What, sir, you begin to be 
drowsy ; come, rub up, now, here is a riddle for you. 
Then said Mr. Honest, Let us hear it. Then replied 
Mr. Greatheart, — 

*' He that would kill, must first be overcome. 
Who live abroad would, first must die at home," 

Ha, said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one : hard to ex- 
pound, and harder to practice. But come, landlor»i, 
said he, I will, if you please, leave my part to you : do 
you expound it, and I will hear what you say. 

No, said Gains, it was put to you, and it is expected 
you should answer it. Then said the old gentleman,- - 

** He first by grace must conquer'd be. 

That sin would mortify ; 
Who that he lives would convince me, 

Unto himself must die." 

It is right, said Gains ; good doctrine and experi- 
ence teach this. For, first, until grace displays itself, 
and overcomes the soul with its glory, it is altogether 
without heart to oppose sin. Besides, if sin is Satan's 
cords, by which the soul lies bound, how should it 
make resistance before it is loosed from that infirmity ? 
Secondly, Nor will any one that knows either reason or 
grace, believe that such a man can be a living mon 
nment of grace that is a slave to his own corruptions* 



J7Q THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 

And now it comes into my mind, I will tell you a story 
worth the hearing. There were two men that went on 
pilgrimage : the one began when he was young, the 
other when he was old. The young man had strong 
corruptions to grapple with ; the old man's were weak 
with the decays of nature. The young man trod his 
steps as even as did the old one, and was every way as 
light as he. Who now, or which of them, had their 
graces shining clearest, since both seemed to be alike ? 

Hon. The young man's, doubtless. For that which 
makes head against the greatest opposition, gives best 
demonstration that it is strongest ; especially when it 
also holdeth pace with that which meets not half so 
much, as to be sure old age does not. Besides, I have 
observed that old men have blessed themselves with 
this mistake ; namely, taking the decays of nature for 
a gracious conquest over corruptions ; and so have been 
apt to beguile themselves. Indeed, old men ''bat are 
gracious are best able to give advice to them that are 
young, because they have seen most of the emptiness o^, 
things ; but yet, for an old and a young man to set out 
both together, the young one has the advantage of the 
fairest discovery of a work of grace within him, though 
the old man's corruptions are naturally the weakest. 

Thus they sat talking till break of day. 

Now, when the family were up, Christiana bid her 
son James that he should read a chapter. So he read 
the 53d of Isaiah. When he had done, Mr. Honest 
asked why it was said that the Saviour is said to come 
" out of a dry ground " ; and also, that " he had no form 
nor comeliness in him.'* 

Then said Mr. Greatheart, To the first I answer, be- 
cause the church of the Jews, of which Christ came, 
had then lost almost all the sap and spirit of religion. 
To the second I say, the words are spoken in the per- 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 3^^ 

Bon of Unbelievers, who, because they want the eye 
that can see into our Prince's heart, therefore they 
judge of him by the meanness of his outside; just like 
those who, not knowing that precious stones are cov- 
ered over with a homely crust, when they have found 
one, because they know not what they have found, cast 
it away again, as men do a common stone. 

Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I 
know Mr. Greatheart is good at his weapons, if you 
please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk 
into the fields, to see if we can do any good. About a 
mile from hence there is one Slaygood, a giant, that; 
doth much annoy the King's highway in these parts; 
aud I know whereabout his haunt is. He is master of 
a number of thieves: 'twould be well if we could cleao: 
these parts of him. 

So they consented and went : Mr. Greatheart with 
Ids sword, helmet, and shield i and the rest with speais 
and staves. 

When they came to the place where he was, they 
found him with one Feeblemind in his hand, whom his 
servants had brought unto him, having taken him in 
the way. Now the giant was rifling him, with a pur- 
]^ose after that to pick his bones , for he was of ths 
nature of flesh-eaters. 

Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Greatheart and his 
friends at the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, 
he demanded what they wanted. 

Great. We want thee •, for we are come to revenge 
the quarrels of the many that thou hast slain of the 
pilgrims, when thou hast dragged them out of the 
King's highway : wherefore, come out of thy cave. So 
he armed himself and came out, and to battle they 
went, and fought for above an hour, and then stood 
fitill to take wind. 



jyg THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

Then said the Giant, Why are you here on my 
ground ? 

Great. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told 
thee before. 

So they went to it again, and the giant made Mr. 
Greatheart give back; but he came up again, and in 
the greatness of his mind he let flj- with such stoutness 
ftt the giant's head and sides, that he made him let his 
weapon fall out of his hand. So he smote him, and 
slew him, and cut off his head, and brought it away to 
the inn. He also took Feeblemind the pilgrim, and 
brought him with him to his lodgings. When they 
were come home, they showed his head to the family, 
and set it up, as they had done others before, for a tei> 
ror to those that should attempt to do as he hereafter. 

Then they asked Mr. Feeblemind how he fell into 
his hands. 

Feeble. Then said the poor man, I am a sickly 
man, as you see : and because death did usually once a 
day knock at my door, I thought I should never be well 
at home ; so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and 
have travelled hither from the town of Uncertain, where 
I and my father were born. I am a man of no strength 
at all of body, nor yet of mind, but would, if I could, 
though I can but crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim's 
way. When I came at the gate that is at the head of 
the way, the Lord of that place did entertain me freely; 
neither objected he against my weakly looks, nor against 
my feeble mind ; but gave me such things as were 
necessary for my journey, and bid me hope to the end. 
When I came to the house of the Interpreter, I re- 
ceived much kindness there : and because the hill of 
■ Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was carried up 
that by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found 
much relief from pilgrims, though none were willing 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 373 

to go SO softly as I am forced to do : yet still, as they 
came on, they bid me be of good cheer, and said, that it 
was the will of their Lord that comfort should be given 
to the feeble-minded (1 Thess. 5 : 14) ; and so went on 
their own pace. When I was come to Assault-lane, 
then this giant met with me, and bid me prepare for an 
encounter. But, alas ! feeble one that I was, I had 
more need of a cordial ; so he came up and took me. 
J conceited he would not kill me. Also, when he had 
got me into his den, since I went not with him will" 
ingly, I believed I should come out alive again; for 
I have heard, that not any pilgrim that is taken captive 
by violent hands, if he keeps heart-whole towards his 
Master, is, by the laws of Providence, to die by the 
hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and 
Tobbed to be sure I am ; but I have, as you see, es- 
caped with life, for the which I thank my King as the 
author, and you as the means. Other brunts I also 
look for ; but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run 
when I can, to go when I cannot run, and to creep 
when I cannot go. As to the main, I thank Him that 
loved me, I am fixed ; my way is before me, my mind 
is beyond the river that has no bridge, though I am, as 
you see, but of a feeble mind. 

Then said old Mr. Honest, Have not you, some time 
ago, been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a pilgrim ? 

Feeble. Acquainted with him ! Yes ; he came from 
the town of Stupidity, which lieth four degrees to the 
northward of the city of Destruction, and as many oflf 
of where I was born : yet we were well acquainted, for, 
indeed, he was my uncle, my father's brother. He and 
I have been much of a temper : he was a little shorter 
than I, but yet we were much of a complexion. 

Hon. I perceive you knew him, and I am apt to be* 
heve also that you were related one to another ; foJf 



2^^ TffE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

you have his whitely look, a cast like his witir yom 
eye, and your speech is much alike. 

Feeble. Most have said so that have known us 
both : and, besides, what I have read in him I have for 
the most part found in myself. 

Come, sir, said good Gains, be of good cheer ; ycu 
are welcome to me, and to my house. What thou hast 
a mind to, call for freely ; and what thou wouldst have 
my servants do for thee, they will do it with a ready 
mind. 

Then said Mr. Feeblemind, This is an unexpected 
favor, and as the sun shining out of a very dark cloud. 
Did Giant Slaygood intend me this favor when he 
stopped me, and resolved to let me go no farther? 
Did he intend, that, after he had rified my pockets, I 
should go to Gains mine host ? Yet so it is. 

Now, just as Mr. Feeblemind and Gains were thus 
m talk, there came one running, and called at the door, 
and said, that about a mile and a half off there was one 
Mr. Notright, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the place 
where he was, with a thunderbolt. 

Alas ! said Mr. Feeblemind, is he slain ? He over- 
took me some days before I came so far as hither, and 
would be my company-keeper. He was also with me 
when Slaygood the giant took me, but he was nimble 
of his heels, and escaped ; but it seems he escaped to 
die, and I was taken to live. 

** What one would think doth seek to slay outright, 
Ofttimes delivers from the saddest plight. 
That very Providence whose face is death, 
Doth ofttimes to the lowly life bequeath. 
I taken was, he did escape and flee ; 
Hands cross' d gave death to him and hfe to me.** 

Now, about this time Matthew and Mercy were 
married ; also, Gains gave his daughter Phebe to 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 375 

James, Matthew's brother, to wife; after which time 
they yet stayed about ten days at Gaius' house, spend- 
ing their time and the seasons like as pilgrims URe 
to do. 

When they were to dej^irt, Gains made them a 
feast, and they did eat and drink, and were merryc 
Now the hour was come that they must be gone? 
wherefore Mr. Greatheart called for a reckoning. But 
Gains told him, that at his house it was not the custom 
for pilgrims to pay for their entertainment. He boarded 
them by the year, but looked for his pay from the good 
Samaritan, who had promised him, at his return, what- 
soever charge he was at with them, faithfully to repay 
him. (Luke 10 : 34, 35.) Then said Mr. Greatheart to 
him,— 

Great. Beloved, thou doest faithfully whatsoever 
thou doest to the brethren, and to strangers, who have 
borne witness of thy charity before the church, whom 
if thou yet bring forward on their journey, after ^ 
godly sort, thou shalt do well. (3 John ^^Q.) Then 
Gains took his leave of them all, and his children, and 
particularly of Mr. Feeblemind. He also gave hin 
something to drink by the way. 

Now Mr. Feeblemind, when they were going out of 
the door, made as if he intended to linger. The which, 
when Mr. Greatheart espied, he said. Come, Mr. Feeble- 
mind, pray do you go along with us : I will be your 
conductor, and you shall fare as the rest. 

Feeble. Alas ! I want a suitable companion. You 
are all lusty and strong, but I, as you see, am weako 
I choose, therefore, rather to come behind, lest, by 
reason of my many infirmities, I should be both a bur- 
den to myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of a 
weak and feeble mind, and shall be offended and mads 
weak at that which ethers can bear. I shall like no 



•..(5 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

fenghing ; \ shall like no gay attire ; I shall like nd 
unprofitable questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as 
to be offended with that which others have a liberty 
to do. I do not yet know all the truth : I am a very 
ignorant Christian man. Sometimes, if I hear some 
rejoice in the Lord, it troubles me because I cannot do 
so too. It is with me as it is with a weak man among 
the strong, or as with a sick man among the healthy, 
or as a lamp despised; so that I know not what to 
do. "He that is ready to slip with his feet is as a 
lamp despised in the thought of him that is at ease." 
(Job 12: 5.) 

But, brother, said Mr. Greatheart, I have it in com- 
mission to comfort the feeble-minded, and to support 
the weak. You must needs go along with us , we will 
wait for you ; we will lend you our help ; we will 
den}^ ourselves of some things, both opinionative and 
practical, for your sake ; we will not enter into doubtful 
disputations before you ; we will be made all thingb 
to you, rather than you shall be left behind. (1 Thess. 
6: 14; Rom. 14:1; ICor. 8: 9-13; 9: 22.) 

Now, all this while they were at Gains' door ; and 
behold, as they were thus in the heat of their discourse, 
Mr. Readytohalt came by, with his crutches in his 
band, and he also was going on pilgrimage. 

Then said Mr. Feeblemind to him, Man, how earnest 
thou hither? I was but now complaining that I had 
not a suitable companion, but thou art according to 
my wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Readytohalt; 
I hope thou and I may be some help. 

Ready. I shall be glad of thy company, said the 
other ; and, good Mr. Feeblemind, rather than we will 
part, since we are thus happily met, I will lend thee 
one of ray crutches. 

Feeble. Nay, said he, though I thank thee for thy 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 3^^ 

good will, I am not inclined to halt before I am lame. 
Howbeit, I think, when occasion is, it may help me 
against a dog. 

Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee 
a pleasure, we are both at thy command, good Mr^ 
Feeblemind, 

Thus, therefore, they went on. Mr. Greatheart and 
Mr. Honest went before, Christiana and her children 
went next, and Mr, Feeblemind came behind, and 
Mr. Readytohalt with his crutches. Then said Mr. 
Honest, — 

Hon. Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell ua 
&ome profitable things of some that have gone on pil 
grimage before us. 

Great. With a good wilh I suppose you ha"va 
l'\eard how Christian of old did meet with Apollyon in 
the Valley of Humiliation, and also what hard work he 
b^d to go through the Valley of the Shadow of Death* 
Also, I think you cannot but have heard how Faithful 
Wis put to it by Madam Wanton, with Adam the First, 
with one Discontent, and Shams; four as deceitful 
vMlains as a man can meet with upon the road. 

Hon. Yes, I have heard of all this ; but, indeed, 
good Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame: he 
was an unwearied one. 

Great. Aye ; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of all 
men had the wrong name. 

Hon. But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and 
Faithful met Talkative ? That same was also a notabla 
one. 

Great. He was a confident fool ; yet many follow 
his ways. 

Hon. He had like to have beguiled Faithful. 

Great. Aye; but Chri&tian put him into a way 
quickly to find him out. 



378 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Thus they went on till they came to the place where 
Evangelist met with Christian and Faithful, and pro- 
phesied to them what should befall them at Vanity 
Fair. Then said their guide, Hereabouts did Christian 
and Faithful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to 
them of what troubles they should meet with at Vanity 
Fair. 

Hon. Say you so ? I dare say it was a hard chapter 
that then he did read unto them. 

Great. It was so ; but he gave them encourage- 
ment withal. But what do we talk of them? They 
were a couple of lion-like men : they had set their faces 
like a flint. Do not you remember how undaunted 
tAey were when they stood before the judge ? 

Hon. Well : Faithful bravely suffered. 

Great. So he did, and as brave things came on't ; 
for Hopeful, and some others, as the story relates it, 
were converted by his death. 

Hon. Well, but pray go on ; for you are well aG« 
q^uainted with things. 

Great^ Above all that Christian met with after h« 
had passed through Vanity Fair, one Byends was the 
aj'ch one. 

Hon. Byends ! what was he ? 

Great. Avery arch fellow, a downright hypocrite; 
one that would be religious, whichever way the world 
went ; but so cunning, that he would be sure never to 
lose or suffer for it. He had his mode of religion for 
every fresh occasion, and his wife was as good at it as 
he. He would turn from opinion to opinion ; yea, and 
plead for so doing, too. But, so far as I could learn^ 
he came to an ill end with his by-ends ; nor did I ever 
hear that any of his children were ever of any esteem 
with any that truly feared God. 

Now by this time they were come within sight of 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 375 

Ihe town of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. So, 
when they saw that they were so near the town, they 
-eonsulted with one another how they should pass 
through the town ; and some said one thing, and some 
another. At last Mr. Greatheart said, I have, as you 
■may understand, often been a conductor of pilgrims 
throu(]fh this town. Now, I am acquainted with one 
Mr. Mnason (Acts 21 : 16), a Cyprusian by nation, an 
old disciple, at whose house we may lodge. If yoij 
think good, we will turn in there. 

Content, said old Honest ; Content, said Christiana ; 
Content, said Mr. Feeblemindj and so they said alL 
Now you must think it was eventide by that they got 
to the outside of the town ; but Mr. Greatheart knew 
the way to the old man's house. So thither they came, 
and he called at the door, and the old man within knew 
his tongue as soon as ever he heard it ; so he opened 
the door, and they all came in. Then said Mnason, 
their host. How far have ye come to-day? So they 
said, From the house of Gaius, our friend. I promise 
you, said he, you have gone a good stitch. You may 
well be weary ; sit down. So they sat down. 

Then said their guide. Come, what cheer, good sirs? 
I dare say you are welcome to my friend. 

Mnas. I also, said Mr. Mnason, do bid you wel- 
come ; and whatever you want, do but say, and we wiU 
do what we can to get it for you. 

Hon. Our great want, a while since, was harbor and 
good company, and now I hope we have both. 

Mnas. For harbor, you see what it is , but for good 
company, that will appear in the trial. 

Great. Well, said Mr. Greatheart, will you have 
the pilgrims up into their lodging ? 

I will, said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to their 
respective places; and also showed them a very fail 



,So THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

dining-room, where they might be, and sup togethei 
until the time should come to go to rest. 

Now, when they were seated in their places, aixd 
were a little cheery after their journey, Mr. Honest 
asked his landlord if there was any store of good people 
, in the town. 

^ Mnas. We have a few : for, indeed, the}^ are but r 
few when compared with them on the other side. 
\ Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them ? 
for the sight of good men to them that are going on 
pilgrimage, is like the appearing of the moon and stars 
to them that are sailing upon the seas. 
1 Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and hi 5 
♦ daughter Grace came up. So he said unto her, Grace?, 
^^go you, tell my friends, ]Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holyma^i, 
'iMr. Lovesaints, Mr. Darenotlie, and Mr. Penitent, th>tt 
"•'I have a friend or two at my house who have a mird 
this evening to see them. So Grace went to call theui, 
and they came, and after salutation made, they sat 
down together at the table. 

Then said Mr. Mnason their landlord. My neighbors, 
I have, as you see, a company of strangers come to my 
house i they are pilgrims . they come from afar, and 
are going to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, do you 
think this is? pointing his finger to Christiana. It is 
Christiana, the wife of Christian, the famous pilgrim, 
who, with Faithful his brother, was so shamefullr 
handled in our town. At that they stood amazed, say- 
ing, We little thought to see Christiana when Grace 
came to call us; wherefore this is a very comfortable 
surprise. 7 hey tJ^«en asked her of her welfare, and if 
these young men were her husband's sons. And when 
she had told them they were, they said. The King 
whom you love and serve make you as your father, and 
bring you \A ere he is in peace. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 381 

Then Mr. Honest (when they were all sat downj 
asked Mr. Contrite and the rest, in what posture their 
town was at present. 

CONT. You may be sure we are full of hurry in 
fair-time. 'Tis hard keeping our hearts and spirits in 
good order when we are in a cumbered condition. He 
that lives in such a place as this is, and has to do with 
such as we have, has need of an item to caution him to 
take heed every moment of the day. 

Hon. But how are j^our neighbors now for quietness? 

CoNT. They are much more moderate now than 
formerly. You know how Christian and Faithful were 
used at our town ; but of late, I say, they have been 
far more moderate. I think the blood of Faithful lieth 
as a load upon them till now ; for, since they burned 
him, they have been ashamed to burn any more. In 
^.hose days we were afraid to walk the street ; but now 
we can show our heads. Then the name of a professor 
was odious ; now, especially in some parts of our town 
< for you know our town is large) religion is counted 
honorable. 

Then said Mr. Contrite to them. Pray, how fareth it 
Ivith you in your pilgrimage ? how stands the country 
affected toward you ? 

Hon. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring 
men : sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul ; 
sometimes up hill, sometimes down hill ; we are seldom 
d,t a certainty. The wind is not always on our backs, 
nor is every one a friend that we meet with in the 
way. We have met with some notable rubs already, 
and what are yet behind we know not ; but, for the 
most part, we find it true that has been talked of old, 
A good man must suffer trouble. 

CoNT. You talk of rubs ; what rubs have you met 
mthal? 



382 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Hon. Nay, ask Mr. Greatheart, our guide ; for he 
can give the best account of that. 

Great. We have bee« beset three or four times^ 
already. First, Christiana and her children were beset 
by two ruffians, who they feared would take away their 
lives. We were beset by Giant Bloodyman, Giant 
Maul, and Giant Slaygood. Indeed, we did rather 
beset the last than were beset by him. And thus it 
was : after we had been some time at the house of 
Gaius mine host, and of the whole church, we were- 
minded upon a time to take our weapons with us, and 
go see if we could light upon any of those that are 
enemies to pilgrims ; for we heard that there was a 
notable one theaeabouts. Now Gaius knew his haunt 
better than I, because he dwelt thereabout. So we 
looked, and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth 
of his cave: then we were glad, and plucked up our 
spirits. So we approached up to his den ; and lo, 
'when we came there, he had dragged, by mere force, 
iuto his net, this poor man, Mr. Feeblemind, and was- 
about to bring him to his end. But when he saw us, 
supposing, as we thought, he had another prey, he left 
the poor man in his hole, and came out. So we fell to 
it full sore, and he lustily laid about him ; but, in con- 
clusion, he was brought down to the ground, and his 
head cut off, and set up by the wayside for a terror 
to such as should after practice such ungodliness. 
That I tell you the truth, here is the man himself to 
affirm it, who was as a lamb taken out of the mouth of 
the lion. 

Then said Mr. Feeblemind, I found this true, to my 
cost and comfort: to my cost, when he threatened to 
pick my bones every moment ; and to my comfort, 
when I saw Mr. Greatheart and his friends, with theil 
weapons, approach so near for my deliverance. 



TTTE PTLGRTM'S PROGRESS. 38 j 

Then said Mr. Holyman, There are two things that 
they have need to possess who go on pilgrimage; 
courage, and an unspotted life. If they have not 
courage, they can never hold on their way ; and if their 
lives be loose, they will make the very name of a 
pilgrim stink. 

Then said Mr. Lovesaints, I hope this caution is 
not needful among you ; but truly there are many that 
go upon the road, who rather declare themselves 
strangers to pilgrimage, than strangers and pilgrims 
on the earth. 

Then said Mr. Darenotlie, 'Tis true; they have 
neither the pilgrim*s weed, nor the pilgrim's courage ; 
they go not uprightly, but all awry with their feet; 
one shoe goeth inward, another outward ; and their 
hosen are out behind : here a rag, and there a rent, to 
the disparagement of their Lord. 

Pen. These thiags, said Mr. Penitent, they ought to 
be troubled for ; nor are the pilgrims like to have that 
gTace put upon them and their Pilgrim's Progress as 
they desire, until the way is cleared of such spots ami 
blemishes. 

Thus they sat talking and spending the time until 
supper was set upon the table, unto which they went^ 
and refreshed their weary bodies : so they went to rest. 

Now they stayed in the fair a great while, at the 
house of this Mr. Mnason, who, in process of time, gave 
his daughter Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, ta 
wife, and his daughter Martha to Joseph. 

The time, as I said, that they stayed here, was long, 
for 5t was not now as in former times. Wherefore the 
pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good people 
of the town, and did them what service they could. 
Mercy, as she was wont, labored much for the poor: 
wherefore their bellies^ and backs blessed her, and sha 



284 7^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

vas there an ornament to her profession. And^ to sa^ 
the truth for Grace, Phebe, and Martha, they were all 
of a very good nature, and did much good in their 
places. They were, also, all of them very fruitful ; so 
that Christian's name, as was said before, was like to 
live in the world. 

While they lay here, there came a monster out of 
the woods, and slew many of the people of the town. 
It would also carry away their children, and teach them 
to suck its whelps. Now no man in the town durst so 
much as face this monster; but all fled when they 
heard the noise of his coming. The monster was like 
unto no one beast on the earth. Its body was like a 
dragon, and it had seven heads and ten horns. (Rev. 
13 : 1.) It made great havoc of children, and yet it 
was governed by a woman. (Rev. 17 : 3.) This mon- 
ster propounded conditions to men ; and such men as 
loved their lives more than their souls, accepted of those 
conditions. So they came under. 

Now Mr. Greatheart, together with those who came 
to visit the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, entered 
into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps 
they might deliver the people of this town from the 
paws and mouth of this so devouring a serpent. 

Then did Mr. Greatheart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy- 
man, Mr. Darenotlie, and Mr. Penitent, with their 
weapons, go forth to meet him. Now the monster at 
first was very rampant, and looked upon these enemies 
with great disdain ; but they so belabored him, being 
sturdy men at arms, that they made him make a retreat. 
So they came home to Mr. Mnason's house again. 

The monster, you must know, had his certain sea^ 
sons to come out in, and to make his attempts upon the 
children of the people of the town. At these seasons 
did these valiant worthies watch him, and did still con- 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 385 

timially assault him ; insomuch that in process of time 
he became not only wounded, but iame. Also, he has 
not made that havoc of the townsmen's children as 
formerly he had done ; and it is verily believed by some 
that this beast will die of his wounds. 

This, therefore, made Mr. Greatheart and his fellows 
of great fame in this town ; so that many of the people 
that Y/anted their taste of things, yet had a reverent 
esteem and respect for them. Upon this account, there- 
fore, it was, that these pilgrims got not much hurt 
here. True, there were some of the baser sort, that 
could see no more than a mole, nor understand 
any more than a beast; these had no reverence for 
these men, nor took they notice of their valor and ad- 
ventures. 



THE SEVENTH STAGE. 

Well, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go 
on their way ; wherefore they prepared for their journey. 
They sent for their friends ; they conferred with them ; 
they had some time set apart therein to commit each 
other to the protection of their Prince. There were 
again that brought them of such things as they had, 
that were fit for the weak and the strong, for the 
women and the men, and so laded them with such 
things as were necessary. (Acts 28 ; 40.) Then they 
set forward on their way; and their friends accom- 
panying them so far as was convenient, they again com- 
mitted each other to the protection of their King, and 
parted. 

They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' company 



386 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

went on, and Mr. Greatheart went before them. Now, 
the women and children being weakly, they were 
forced to go as they could bear, by which means Mr. 
Readytohalt and Mr. Feeblemind, had more to sympa-^ 
thize with their condition. 

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when 
their friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came 
to the place where Faithful was i)ut to death. There- 
fore they made a stand, and thanked Him that had en- 
abled him to bear his cross so well ; and the rather, be- 
cause they now found that they had a benefit by such 
a manly suffering as his was. 

They went on, therefore, after this, a good way 
farther, talking of Christian and Faithful, and how 
Hopeful joined himself to Christian after that FaithfuX 
was dead. 

Now they were come up with the hill Lucre, wher*^ 
the silver mine was which took Demas off from hi 4 
pilgrimage, and into which, as some think, Byends fell 
and perished; wherefore they considered that. Bui 
when they were come to the old monument that stood 
over against the hill Lucre, to wit, to the pillar of salf., 
that stood also within view of Sodom and its stinking 
lake, they marvelled, as did Christian before, that men 
of such knowledge and ripeness of wit as they were, 
should be so blinded as to turn aside here. Only they 
considered again that nature is not affected with the 
harms that others have met with, especially if that 
thing upon which they look has an attracting virtue 
upon the foolish eye. 

I saw now, that they went on till they came to the 
river that was on this side of the Delectable Mountains 
to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides, 
and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against 
Burfeitsi where the meadows are green all the jeai 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 387 

long, and where they might lie down safely. (Psa. 
23 : 2.) 

By this river-side, in the meadows, there were cotes 
and folds for sheep, a house built for the nourishing 
and bringing up of those lambs, the babes of those 
women that go on pilgrimage. (Heb. 5 : 2.) Also, 
there was here one that was intrusted with them, who 
could have compassion ; and that could gather these 
lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and 
gently lead those that were with young. (Isa. 40 : 11.) 
Now, to the care of this man Christiana admonished her 
f(»ur daughters to commit their little ones, that by these 
waters they might be housed, harbored, succored, and 
nourished, and that none of them might be lacking in 
time to come. (Jer. 23 : 4.) This man, if any of them 
g^) astra}^ or be lost, will bring them again ; he will 
also bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen 
them that are sick. (Ezek. 34 : 11-16.) Here they will 
never want meat, drink, and clothing ; here they will 
be kept from thieves and robbers 5 for this man will die 
before one of those committed to his trust shall be lost. 
Besides, here they shall be sure to have good nurture 
and admonition, and shall be taught to walk in right 
paths, and that you know is a favor of no small account. 
Also here, as you see, are delicate waters, pleasant 
meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and such as 
i)ear wholesome fruit : fruit, not like that which Mat- 
chew ate of, that fell over the wall out of Beelzebub's 
garden ; but fruit that procureth health where there is 
none, and that continueth and increaseth it where it is. 
So they were content to commit their little ones to him ; 
and that which was also an encouragement to them so 
to do, was, for that all this was to be at the charge of 
the King, and so was as an hospital to young children 
andoipbaos* 



,88 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Now they went on. And when they were come to 
By-path Meadow, to the stile over which Christian went 
with his fellow Hopeful, when they were taken by Giant 
Despair and put into Doubting Castle, they sat down, 
and consulted what was best to b3 done : to wit, now 
they were so strong, and had got such a man as Mr^ 
Greatheart for their conductor, whether they had not 
best to make an attempt upon the giant, demolish his 
castle, and if there were any pilgrims in it, to set them at 
liberty before they went any farther. So one said one 
thing, and another said the contrary. One questioned 
if it was lawful to go upon unconsecrated ground, 
another said they might, provided their end was good ; 
but Mr. Greatheart said. Though that assertion offered 
jiast cannot be universally true, yet I have a command- 
ment to resist sin, to overcome evil, to fight the good 
fight of faith : and I pray, with whom should I fight 
this good fight, if not with Giant Despair? I will 
therefore attempt the taking away of his life, and the 
demolishing of Doubting Castle. Then said lie, Who 
•^vill go with me? Then said old Honest, I will. And 
60 will we too, said Christiana's four sons, Matthew, 
Samuel, Joseph, and James; for they were young men 
and strong. (1 John 2: 13,14.) So they left the 
women in the road, and with them Mr. Feeblemind, 
and Mr. Readytohalt with his crutches, to be their 
guard until they came back; for in that place the Giant 
Despair dwelt so near, they keeping in the road, a little 
child might lead them. (Isa. 11 : 6.) 

So Mr. Greatheart, old Honest, and the four young 
men, went to go up to Doubting Castle, to look for 
Giant Despair. When ihe3/ carae at the castle-gat€, 
they knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At 
that the old giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his 
Ufife follows. Then said he, Who ana what is he that 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 389 

is so hardy, as, after this manner, to molest the Giant 
Despair ? Mr. Greatheart replied, It is I, Greatheart, 
one of the King of the Celestial Country's conductors 
of pilgrims to their place ; and I demand of thee that 
thou open thy gates for my entrance : prepare thyself 
also to fight, for I am come to ti4,ke away thy head, and 
to demolish Doubting Castle. 

Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, tnought 
no man could overcome him : and again thought he, 
Since heretefore I have made a conquest of angels, shall 
Greatheart make me afraid ? So he harnessed himself, 
and went out. He had a cap of steel upon his head, a 
breastplate of fire girded to him, and he came out in 
iron shoes, with a great club in his hand. Then thes9 
six men made up to him, and beset him behind and bo- 
fore: also, when Diffidence the giantess came up to help 
him, old Mr. Honest cut her down at one blow. The^n 
they fought for their lives, and Giant Despair was 
brought down to the ground, but was very loth to 
die. He struggled hard, and had, as they say, 2^ 
many lives as a cat ; but Greatheart was his death, 
for he left him not till he had severed his head from his 
shoulders. 

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting Castle, and 
that you know might with ease be done, since Giant 
Despair was dead. They were seven days in destroy- 
ing of that ; and in it of pilgrims they found one Mr. 
Despondency, almost starved to death, and one Much- 
afraid, his daughter : these two they saved alive. But 
it would have made you wonder to have seen the dead 
bodies that lay here and there in the castle-yard, and 
how full of dead men's bones the dungeon was. 

When Mr. Greatheart and his companions had per- 
formed this exploit, they took Mr. Despondency, and 
liis daughter Muchafraid, into their protection; for 



jgo THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

they were honest people, though they were prisoners in 
Doubting Castle to that tyrant Giant Despair. They^ 
therefore, I sa}^ took with them the head of the giant 
(for his body they had buried under a heap of stones)^ 
and down to the road and to their companions they 
came, and showed them what they had done. Now, 
when Feeblemind and Readytohalt saw that it was the 
head of Giant Despair indeed, they were very jocund 
and merry. Now Christiana, if need was, could play 
upon the viol, and her daughter Mercy upon the lute*. 
60, since they were so merry disposed, she played them 
a lesson, and Readytohalt would dance. So he tool; 
Despondency's daughter, Muchafraid ^oj the hand, andl 
to dancing they went on the road. True, he could not 
dance without one crutch in his hand, but I promiiie 
you he footed it well: also, the girl was to be com- 
mended, for she answered the music handsomely. 

As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not so much 
to him ; he was for feeding rather than dancing, for 
that he was almost starved. So Christiana gave him 
some of her bottle of spirits for present relief, and then 
prepared him something to eat ; and in a little time the 
old gentleman came to himself, and began to be finely 
revived. 

Now I saw, in my dream, when all these things were 
finished, Mr. Greatheart took the head of Giant Des- 
pair, and set it upon a pole by the highway-side, right 
over against the pillar that Christian erected for a 
caution to pilgrims that came after, to take heed of en- 
tering into his grounds. 

Then he writ under it, upon a marble stone, these 
verses following ; — 

** This is the head of him whose name only 
In former times did pilgrims terrifv. 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRE'SS. aa; 

Sis castle's down, and Diffidence his wift. 
Brave Mr. Greatheart has bereft of life. 

Despondency, his daughter Muchatraia, 
Greatheart for them also the man has play*d. 
Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye 
Up hither, may his scruples satisfy. 
This head also, when doubting cripples di^nce. 
Doth show from fears they have deliverance.'" 

When these men had thus bravely showed them« 
ajelves against Doubting Castle, and had slain Giant 
Despair, they went forward, and went on till they cam*' 
to the Delectable Mountains, where Christian and 
Hopeful refreshed themselves with the varieties of the 
place. They also acquainted themselves with the 
shepherds there, who welcomed them, as they had done 
Christian before, unto the Delectable Mountains. 

Now the shepherds seeing so great a train follow 
Mr. Greatheart (for with him they were well acquaint* 
ed), they said unto him. Good sir, you have got a goodlj^ 
company here ; pray, where did you find all these ? 

Then Mr. Greatheart replied : 

** First, here is Christiana and her train, 
Her sons, and her sons' wives, who, like the wa$n» 
Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer 
From sin to grace, else they had not been here. 
Next, here's old Honest come on pilgrimage ; 
Beadytohalt too, who, I dare engage. 
True-hearted is ; and so is Feeblemind, 
Who willing was not to be left behind ; 
Despondency, good men, is coming after. 
And so also is Muchafraid, his daughter. 
May we have entertainment here, or must 
We farther go ? Let's know whereon to trust." 

Then said the shepherds, This is a comfortable com- 
pany. You are welcome to us \ for we have for the 
^bie« ^ well as for the strong. Our Piincd hae an 



392 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

eye to what is done to the least of these ; therefore 
infirmity must not be a block to our entertainment 
(Matt. 25 : 40.) So they had them to the palace-dooi 
and then said unto them, Come in, Mr. Feeblemind ^ 
Come in, Mr. Readytohalt ; Come in, Mr. Despondency, 
and Mrs. Muchafraid, his daughter. These, Mr. Great, 
heart, said the shepherds to the guide, we call in by 
name, for that they are most subject to di-aw back ; but 
as for you, and the rest, that are strong, we leave you 
to your wonted liberty. Then said Mr. Greatheart, 
This day I see that grace doth shine in your faces, and 
that you are my Lord's shepherds indeed ; for that you 
have not pushed these diseased neither with side nor 
shoulder, but have rather strewed their way into the 
palace with flowers, as you should. (Ezek. 34 : 21.) 

So the feeble and wea.c went in, and Mr. Greatheart 
and the rest did follow. When they were also stjt 
do.yn, the shepherds said to those of the weaker sort. 
What 3s it that you would have ? for, said they, all 
things must be managed here to the supporting of the 
weak, as well as to the warning of the unruly. So they 
made them a feast of things easy of digestion, and that 
were pleasant to the palate, and nourishing ; the which 
when they had received, they went to their rest, each 
one respectively unto his proper place. 

When morning was come, because the mountains 
Were high and the day clear, and because it was the 
custom of the shepherds to show the pilgrims, before 
their departure, some rarities, therefore, after they were 
ready, and had refreshed themselves, the shepherds 
took them out into the fields, and showed them first 
what they had shown to Christian before. 

Then they had them to some new places. The first 
was Mount Marvel, where they looked, and beheld a 
aian at a distance that tumbled tba hills about wit^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 393 

words. Then they asked the shepherds what that 
should mean. So they told them, that that man was 
the son of one Mr. Greatgrace, of whom you read in 
the first part of the records of the Pilgrim's Progress ; 
and he is set there to teach pilgrims how to believe 
down, or to tumble out of their ways, what difficulties 
•they should meet with, by faith. (Mark 11 : 23, 24.) 
Then said Mr. G^^atheart, I know him : he is a man 
above many. 

Then they had them to another place, called Mount 
Innocence. And there they saw a man clothed all in 
white ; and two men. Prejudice and 111 will, continually 
casting dirt upon him. Now behold, the dirt, what- 
g^oever they cast at him, would in a little time fall off 
again, and his garment would look as clean as if no 
(\irt had been cast thereat. Then said the pilgrims, 
What means this ? The shepherds answered, This man 
itt named Godlyman, and his garment is to show the 
innocency of his life. Now, those that throw dirt at 
liim are such as hate his well-doing ; but, as you see, 
the dirt will not stick upon his clothes : so it shall be 
with him that liveth innocently in the world. Who- 
ever they be that would make such men dirty, they 
Inbor all in vain ; for God, by that a little time is spent, 
will cause that their innocence shall break forth as the 
light, and their righteousness as the noonday. 

Then they took them, and had them to Mount Char- 
ity, where they showed them a man that had a bundle 
of cloth lying before him, out of which he cut coats 
and garments for the poor that stood about him ; yet 
his bundle, or roll of cloth, was never the less. Then 
said they. What should this be? This is, said the 
shepherds, to show you that he who has a heart to give 
of his labor to the poor, shall never want wherewithal. 
fcle that watereth shall be watered himself. And the 



394 ^^^ PTLGRTM'S PROGRESS, 

cake that the widow gave to the prophet did not cause 
bhat she had the less in her barrel. 

They had them also to the place where they saw one 
Fool and one Wantwit washing an Ethiopian, with in- 
tention to make him white ; but the more they washed 
him, the blacker he was. Then they asked the shep- 
herds what that should mean. So they told them, say- 
ing, Thus it is with the vile person ; all means used to 
get such a one a good name shall, in conclusion, tend 
but to make him more abominable. Thus it was with 
the pharisees ; and so it shall be with all hypocrites. 

Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana 
her mother. Mother, I would, if it might be, see the 
hole in the hill, or that commonly called the By-way to 
Hell. So her mother brake her mind to the shepherds. 
Then they went to the door ; it was on the side of an 
hill ; and they opened it, and bid Mercy hearken a 
while. So she hearkened, ar I heard one saying. Cursed 
be my father, for holding of my feet back from the way 
of peace and life. Another said, Oh, that I had been 
torn in pieces before I had, to save my life, lost my soul ! 
And another said, If I were to live again, how would I 
deny myself, rather than to come to this pla^e I Then 
there was as if the very earth groaned and quaked un- 
der the feet of this young woman for fear ; so she looked 
white, and came trembling away, saying, Blessed be he 
and she that is delivered from this place I 

Now, when the shepherds had shown them all these 
things, then they had them back to the palace, and en- 
tertained them with what the house would afford. But 
Mercy, being a young and married woman, longed for 
something that she saw there, but was ashamed to ask. 
Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed, for 
she looked as one not well. Then said Mercy, There 
is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-room, off wluoh 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 395 

I cannot take my mind ; if therefore, I have it not, I 
think I shall miscarry. Then said her mother, I will 
mention thy wants to the shepherds, and they will not 
deny thee. But she said, I am ashamed that these men 
should know that I longed. Nay, my daughter, said 
she, it is no shame, but a virtue, to long for such a 
thing as that. So Mercy said. Then, mother, if you 
please, ask the shepherds if they are willing to sell it. 

Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would 
present a man, one way, with his own features exactly; 
and turn it but another way, and it would show one 
the very face and similitude of the Prince of pilgrims 
himself. Yes, I have talked with them that can tell, 
and they have said that they have seen the very crown 
of thorns upon his head by looking in that glass ; they 
have therein also seen the holes in his hands, his feet, 
and his side. Yea, such an excellency is there in this 
glass, that it will show him to one where they have a 
mind to see him, whether living or dead ; whether in 
earth, or in heaven ; whether in a state of humiliation, 
or in his exaltation ; whether coming to suffer, or com- 
ing to reign. (James 1 : 23 ; 1 Cor. 13 : 12 ; 2 Cor. 3 : 18.) 

Christiana therefore went to the shepherds apart 
(now the names of the shepherds were Knowledge, 
Experience, Watchful, and Sincere,) and said unto 
them. There is one of my daughters, a breeding woman, 
that I think doth long for something that she hath seen 
:m this house ; and she thinks that she shall miscarry if 
she should by you be denied. 

Experience. Call her, call her, she shall assuredly 
have what we can help her to. So they called her, and 
said to her, Mercy, what is that thing thou wouldst 
have** Then she blushed, and said, The great glass 
that hangs up in the dining-room. So Sincere ran and 
fetched il, and with a joyful consent it was given her. 



396 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

Then she bowed her head, and gave thanks ; and sai<i^ 
By this I know that I have obtained favor in youi 
eyes. 

They also gave to the other young women such 
fchings as they desired, and to their husbands great com- 
mendations, for that they had joined with Mr. Greats 
heai't in the slaying of Giant Despair, and the demoL 
iahing of Doubting Castle. 

About Christiana's neck the shepherds put a brace- 
Let, and so did they about the necks of her four daugh- 
ters ; also, they put ear-rings in their ears, and jewels 
on their foreheads. 

When they were minded to go thence, they let them 
^o in peace, but gave not to them those certain cautions 
which before were given to Christian and his companion. 
The reason was for that these had Greatheart to Ite 
their guide, who was one that was well acquainted wit h 
things, and so could give them their cautions more seas- 
onably, to wit, even when the danger was nigh tl/e 
approaching. What cautions Christian and his com- 
panion had received of the shepherds, they had ako 
lost by that the time was come that they had need 1o 
put them in practice. Wherefore, here was the advarv 
hige that this company had over the other. 

From thence they went on singing, and they said,— 

•* Behold how fitly are the stages set, 

For their relief that pilgrims are become ; 
And how they us receive without one let, 
That make the other life our mark and home ! 

** What novelties they have to us they give, 

That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may Uv©t 
They do upon us, too, such things bestow, 
That sho*^ we nilgrims *''*e, where'er we go*" 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 35* 



THE EIGHTH STAGE. 

When they were gone frcm the shepherds, they 
'S^nickly came to the place where Christian met with 
©ne Turnaway, that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. 
Wherefore of him, Mr. Greatheart, their guide, now put 
them in mind, saying. This is the place where Christian 
met with one Turnaway, who carried with him the 
character of his rebellion at his back. And this I have 
to say concerning this man : he would hearken to no 
^Bounsel, but once a falling, persuasion could not stop 
him. When he came to the place where the cross and 
sepulchre were, he did meet with one that bid him look 
there ; but he gnashed with his teeth, and stamped, and 
said he was resolved to go back to his own town. Be- 
fore he came to the gate, he met with Evangelist, who 
offered to lay hands on him, to turn him into the way 
4gain ; but this Turnaway resisted him, and having 
ilone much despite unto him, he got away over the wall, 
aad so escaped his hand. 

Then they went on ; and just at the place where 
Littl:faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man 
with his sword drawn, and his face all over with blood 
Then said Mr. Greatheart, Who art thou ? The man 
made answer, saying, I am one whose name is Valiant- 
for-truth. I am a pilgrim, and am going to the Celes- 
tial City. Now, as I was in my way, there were three 
men that did beset me, and propounded unto me these 
three things: 1. Whether I would become one of 
them. 2. Or go back from whence I came. 3. Or die 
i?pon the place. (Prov. 1 : 11-14.) To the first I 
iuiswered, I had been a true man for a long season, anu 



39S THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

therefore it could not be expected that I should now 
cast in my lot with thieves. Then they demanded 
what I would say to the second. So I told them the 
place from whence I came, had I not found incom- 
modity there, I had not forsaken it at all ; but finding 
it altogether unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable 
for me, I forsook it for this way. Then they asked me 
what I said to the third. And I told them my life cost 
far more dear than that I should lightly give it away. 
Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put things to 
my choice ; wherefore at your peril be it if j^ou meddle. 
Then these three, to wit, Wildhead, Inconsiderate, and 
Pragmatic, drew upon me, and I also drew upon them. 
So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of 
above three hours. They have left upon me, as you 
see, some of the marks of their valor, and have also 
carried away with them some of mine. They are but 
just now gone : I suppose they might, as the saying is, 
hear your horse dash, and so they betook themselves 
to flight. 

Great. But here was great odds, three against one. 

Valiant. 'Tis true ; but little or more are nothing 
to him that has the truth on his side : " Though an 
host should encamp against me," said one (Psa. 27 : 3), 
*'my heart shall not fear: though war should rise 
against me, in this will I be confident," &c. Besides, 
said he, I have read in some records, that one man has 
fought an army : and how many did Samson slay with 
the jawbone of an ass ! 

Then said the guide. Why did you not cry out, that 
some might have come in for your succor? 

Valiant. So I did to ray King, who I knew could 
hear me, aLd afford invisible help, and that was suffi- 
sient for me. 

Then said Greatheart to ^Ir. Valiant-for-truth, Thow 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, ^9 

hast worthily behaved thyself ; let me see thy sword. 
So he showed it him. 

When he had taken it in his hand, and looked 
thereon a while, he said, Hal it is a right Jerusalem 
blade. 

Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of thesrt 
blades, with a hand to wield it, and skill to use it, and 
he may venture upon an angel with it. He need not 
fear its holding, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its 
edge will never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and 
soul, and spirit, and all. (Heb. 4 : 12.) 

Great. But you fought a great while; I wondetr 
you was not weary. 

Valiant. I fought till my sword did cleave to my 
hand; and then they were joined together as if a sword 
grew out of my arm ; and when the blood ran througl^ 
my fingers, then I fought with most courage. 

Great. Thou hast done well ; thou hast resisteOt 
unto blood, striving against sin. Thou shalt abide b} 
us, come in and go out with us ; for we are thy com 
panions. Then they took him and washed his wounds^ 
and gave him of what they had, to refresh him ; and SG 
they went on together. 

Now, as they went on, because Mr. Greatheart wa» 
delighted in him (for he loved one greatly that he foundl 
to be a man of his hands), and because there were ii^ 
company those that were feeble and weak, therefore ht? 
questioned with him about many things; as, first, whan 
countryman he was. 

Valiant. I am of Darkland ; for there was I born, 
and there my father and mother are still. 

Great. Darkland ! said the guide ; doth not that 
Jie on the same coast with the city of Destruction? 

Valiant. Yes, it doth. Now, that which caused 
we to come on pilgrimage was this. We had one Mx« 



40O 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



Telltrue oome into our parts, and he told it aV»out what 
Christian had done, that went from the city of Destruc- 
tion , namely, how he had forsaken his wife and chil 
dren, and had betaken himself to a pilgrim's life. It was 
also confidently reported, how he had killed a serpent 
that did come out to resist him in his journey ,- and 
how he got through to whither he intended. It was 
also told what welcome he had at all his Lord's lodgings, 
especially when he came to the gates of the Celestial 
City ; for there, said the man, he was received with 
sound of trumpet by a company of shining ones. He 
told also how all the bells in the city did ring for joy 
at his reception, and what golden garments he was 
clothed with ; with many other things that now I shall 
forbear to relate. In a word, that man so told the 
story of Christian and his travels that my heart fell into 
a burning haste to be gone after him \ nor could father 
or mother stay me. So I got from them, and am come 
thus far on my way. 

Great. You came in at the gate, did you not ? 

Valiant, Yes, yes ; for the same man also told us, 
that all would be nothing if we did not begin to eater 
this way at the gate. 

Look you, said the guide to Christiana, the pilgrim- 
age of your husband, and what he has gotten thereby, 
is spread abroad far and near. 

Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife ? 

Great. Yes, that it is , and these also are his four 
sons. 

Valiant. What, and going on pilgrimage, too ? 

Great. Yes, verily, they are following after. 

Valiant. It glads me at the heart. Good man 
how joyful will he be when he shall see them that 
would not go with him, yet to enter after him in at th« 
gates into the Celestial City. 



THE PILGRIM* S PROGRESS. 40I 

Great. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him ; 
for, next to the joy of seeing himself there, it will be a 
joy to meet there his wife and children. 

Valiant. But now you are upon that, pray let me 
hear your opinion about it. Some make a question 
whether we shall know one another when we are there. 

Geeat. Do you think they shall know themselves 
then, or that they shall rejoice to see themselves in that 
bliss? And if they think they shall know and do this, 
why not know others, and rejoice in their welfare also ? 
Again, since relations are our second self, though that 
state will be dissolved there, yet why may it not 1 e 
rationally concluded that we shall be more glad to st^e 
them there than to see they are wanting ? 

Valiant. Well, I perceive whereabouts you are jts 
to this. Have you any more things to ask me aboNt 
my beginning to come on pilgrimage*^ 

Great. Yes; were your father andmother williiig 
that you should become a pilgrim ? 

Valiant. Oh, no, they used all means imaginable 
to persuade me to stay at home. 

Great. Why, what could they say against it ? 

Valiant. They said it was an idle life ; and if I 
myself were not inclined to sloth and laziness, I would 
never countenance a pilgrim's condition. 

Great. And what did they say else ? 

Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a danger- 
ous way ; yea, the most dangerous way in the world, 
said they, is that which the pilgrims go. 

Great. Did they show you wherein this way is so 
'dangerous ? 

Valiat. Yes , and that in many particulars. 

Great. Name some of them. 

Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Despond, 
where Christian was well nigh smothered. They tol4 



409 THE PILGRIM'S l^ROGRESS. 

me, that there were archers standing ready in Beelzebub 
Castle to shoot them who should knock at the wicket* 
gate for entrance. They told me also of the wood and 
dark mountains, of the hill Difficulty; of the lions; 
and also of the three giants, Bloodyman, Maul, and 
Slaygood. They said, moreover, that there was a foui 
fiend haunted the Valley of Humiliation , and that 
Christian was by him almost bereft of life. Besides, 
said they, you must go over the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the light is 
darkness, where the way is full of snares, pits, traps, 
and gins. They told me also of Giant Despair, of 
Doubting Castle, and of the ruin that the pilgrims met 
with there. Further, they said I must go over the En- 
chanted Ground, which was dangerous , and that, after 
all this, I should find a river over which there was no 
bridge , and that that river did lie betwixt me and the 
Celestial Country. 

Great. And was this all ? 

Valiant. No. They also told me that this way 
was full of deceivers, and of persons that lay in wait 
there to turn good men out of the path. 

Great. But how did they make that out ? 

Valiant. They told me that Mr. Wordly Wiseman 
did lie there to wait to deceive. They said, also, that 
there were Formality and Hypocrisy continually on the 
road. They said, also, that Byends, Talkative, or De- 
mas, would go near to gather me up , that the Flatterer 
would catch me in his net j or that, with green-headed 
Ignorance, I would presume to go on to the gate, from 
whence he was sent back to the hole that was in the 
side of ths hill, and made to go the by-way to hell. 

Great. I promise you this was enough to discoui> 
a^ you ; but did they make an end there? 

Valiant. No, stay. They told me also of man^ 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 403 

that had tried that way of old, and that had gone a 
great way therein, to see if they could find something 
of the glory there that so many had so much talked of 
from time to time, and how they came back again, and 
befooled themselves for setting a foot out of doors in 
that path, to the satisfaction of all the country. And 
they named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pli 
able, Mistrust and Timorous, Turnaway and old Athe- 
ist, with several more ; who, they said, had some or 
them gone far to see what they could find, but not one 
of them had found so much advantage by going as 
amounted to the weight of a feather. 

GiiEAT. Said they anything more to discourage you ? 

Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr. Fearing, 
who was a pilgrim, and how he found his way so soli- 
tary that he never had a comfortable hour therein ; 
also, that Mr. Despondency had like to have bee a 
6'barved therein. Yea, and also (which I had almost 
forgot), that Christian himself, about whom there has 
b-een such a noise, after all his adventures for a celes- 
tial crown, was certainly drowned in the Black River, 
and never went a foot farther ; however, it was smoth» 
ered. up. 

Great. And did none of these things discourage 
you? 

Valiant. No; they seemed but as so many nothings 
^ me. 

Great. How came that about ? 

Valiant. Why, I still believed what Mr. Telltrue 
had said ; and that carried me beyond them all. 

Great. Then this was your victory, even your faith ? 

Valiant. It was so. I believed, and therefore came 
out, got into the way, fought all that set themselve* 
(gainst me, and, bj believiug, am come to this place. 



404 1^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

" Who would true valor see, 
Let him come hither ; 
One here will constant be. 

Come wind, come weatho^ 
There's no discouragement 
Shall make him once relent 
His first avow'd intent 

To be a pilgrim. 

** Whoso beset him round 
With dismal stories, 
Do but themselves confound | 

His strength the more is. 
No lion can him fright, 
He'll with a giant fight, 
But he will have a right 

To be a pilgrim. 

** Hobgoblin nor foul fiend 
Can daunt his spirit ; 
He knows he at the end 

Shall life inherit. 
Then fancies fly away, 
He'll not fear what men say ; 
He'll labor night and day 
To be a pilgrim. 

By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, 
where the air naturally tended to make one drowsy. 
And that place was all grown o\^r with briers and 
thorns, excepting here and there, where was an en- 
chanted arbor, upon which if a man sits, or in which if 
a man sleeps, it is a question, some say, whether ever he 
shall rise or wake again in this world. Over this forest, 
therefore, they went, both one and another, and Mr. 
Greatheart went before, for that he was the guide ; and 
Valiant-for-truth came behind, being rear-guard, for fear 
lest peradventure some fiend, or dragon, or giant, or 
thief, should fall upon tUeir rear, and so do mischief 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 405 

They went on here, each man with his sword drawn m 
Jiis hand; for they knew it was a dangerous place. 
Also, they cheered up one another as well as they could. 
Feeblemind, Mr. Greatheart commanded should come 
up after him ; and Mr. Despondency was under the eye 
of Mr. Valiant. 

Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and 
darkness fell upon them all ; so that they could scarce, 
for a great while, the one see the other. Wherefore 
they were forced, for some time, to feel one for another 
by words ; for they walked not by sight. But anyone 
must think, that here was but sorry going for the best 
of them all ; but how much worse for the women and 
children, who, both of feet and heart, were but tender ! 
"iet so it was, that, through the encouraging words of 
mm that led in the front, and of him that brought them 
tip behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag along. 

The way also here was very wearisome, through dirt 
And slabbiness. Nor was there, on all this ground, so 
i\iuch as one inn or victualling-house wherein to refresh 
the feebler sort. Here, therefore, was grunting, and 
I uffing, and sighing, while one tumbleth over a bush, 
another sticks fast in the dirt, and the children, some of 
them, lost their shoes in the mire ; while one cries out, 
1 am down ; and another. Ho, where are you ? and a 
third. The bushes have got such fast hold on me, I think 
I can not get away from them. 

Then they came at an arbor, warm, and promising 
much refreshing to the pilgrims ; for it was finely 
wrought above-head, beautified with greens, furnished 
with benches and settles. It also had in it a soft couch, 
whereon the weary might lean. This, you must think, 
all things considered, was tempting ; for the pilgrims 
already began to be foiled with the badness of the way; 
but there was noi one of them that made so much as a 



4o6 THE PILGRIM :: PROGRESS. 

motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I could perceive, 
they continually gave so good heed to the advice of 
their guide, and he did so faithfully tell them of dangers, 
and of the nature of the dangers when they were at 
-^hem, that usually, when they were nearest to them, 
they did most pluck up their spirits, and hearten one 
another to deny the flesh. This arbor was called The 
Slothful's Friend, and was made on purpose to allure, 
if it might be, some of the pilgrims there to take up 
their rest when weary. 

I saw then, in my dream, that they went on in this 
their solitary ground, till they came to a place at which 
a man is apt to lose his way. Now, though when it 
was light their guide could well enough tell how to miss 
those ways that led wrong, yet in the dark he was put 
to a stand. But he had in his pocket a map of all ways 
heading to or from the Celestial City ; wherefore he 
struck a light (for he never goes without his tinder-box 
also), and takes a view of his book or map, which bids 
him to be careful in that place to turn to the right hand. 
And had he not been careful here to look in his map, 
they had all, in probability, been smothered in the mud ; 
for just a little before them, and that at the end of the 
cleanest way too, was a pit, none knows how deep, full 
of nothing but mud, there made on purpose to destroy 
the pilgrims in. 

Then thought T with myself. Who that goeth on 
pilgrimage but would have one of these maps about 
him, that he may look, when he is at a stand, which is 
the way he must take ? 

Then they went on in this Enchanted Ground till 
they came to where there was another arbor, and it was 
built by the high way -side. And in that arbor there lay 
two men, whose names were Heedless and Toobold. 
Xhese two went thus far on pilgrimage \ but here, being 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 407 

wearied with their journey, they sat down to rest them* 
selves, and so fell fast asleep. When the pilgrims saw 
them, they stood still, and shook their heads , for they 
knew that the sleepers were in a pitiful case. Then 
they consulted what to do, whether to go on and leave 
them in their sleep, or to step to them and try to awake 
them ; so they concluded to go to them and awake 
them, that is, if they could ; but with this caution, 
-namely to take heed that they themselves did not sit 
down nor embrace the offered benefit of that arbor. 

So they went in, and spake to the men, and called 
each by his name, for the guide, it seems, did know 
them ; but there was no voice nor answer. Then the 
guide did shake them, and do what he could to disturb 
them. Then said one of them I will pay you when I 
take my money. At which the guide shook his head. 
I will fight so long as I have my sword in my hand, said 
the other. At that, one of the children laughed. 

Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this ? 
The guide said. They talk in their sleep. If you 
strike them, beat them, or whatever else you do to them, 
they will answer you after this fashion ; or, as one of 
them said in old time, when the waves of the sea did 
beat upon him, and he slept as one upon the mast of a 
ship, When I awake, I will seek it yet again. (Prov. 
23 : 34, 35.) You know, when men talk in their sleep, 
they say anything ; but their words are not governed 
either by faith or reason There is an incoherency in 
their words now, as there was before, betwixt then 
going on pilgrimage and sitting down here. This, then, 
is the mischief of it : when heedless ones go on pilgrim^ 
age, 'tis twenty to one but they are served thus. For 
this Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges that 
the enemy to pilgrims has ; wherefore it is, as you see, 
placed almost at the end of the way, and so it standeth 



4c8 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

against us with the more advantage. For when, thinks 
the enemy, will these fools be so desirous to sit dowx 
as when they are weary ? and when so like to be weary 
as when almost at their journey's end ? Therefore it 
is, I say, that the Enchanted Ground is placed so nigb 
to the land Beulah, and so near the end of their racec 
Wherefore let pilgrims look to themselves, lest it hap 
pen to them as it has done to these, that, as you see> 
are fallen asleep, and none can awake them. 

Then the pilgrims desired with trembling to go for- 
ward ; only they prayed their guide to strike a light, 
that they might go the rest of their way by the help of 
the light of a lantern. So he struck a light, and they 
went by the help of that through the rest of tMs way, 
though the darkness was very great. (2 Pet. 1 : 19.) 
J»ut the children began to be sorely weary, and they 
cried out unto Him that loveth pilgrims, to make their 
v-'ay more comfortable. So by that they had gone a 
I'ttle farther, a wind arose that drove away the fog, so 
tiae air became more clear. Yet they were not off (by 
much) of the Enchanted Ground ; only now they could 
pee one another better, and the way wherein they 
thould walk. 

Now, when they were almost at the end of this 
ground, they perceived that a little before them was a 
solemn noise, as of one that was much concerned. Sc 
they went on and looked before them: and behold, thej 
saw, as they thought, a man upon his knees, with hands 
and eyes lifted up, and speaking, as the}^ thought, earn- 
estly to One that was above. They drew nigh, but 
could not tell what he said ; so they went softly till he 
had done. When he had done, he got up, and began 
to run towards the Celestial City. Then Mr. Great- 
heart called after him, saying, Soho ! friend, let us have 
jour company, if you go, as I suppose you do, to th© 



THE PILGRIM* S PROGRESS, 409 

Celestial City. So the man stopped, and they came up 
to him. But as soon as Mr. Honest saw him, he said, I 
know this man. Then said Mr. Valiant-for-truth, 
Prithee, who is it ^ It is one, said he, that comes from 
whereabout I dwelt. His name is Standfast . he is cer- 
tainly a right good pilgrim. 

So they came up to one another , and presently 
Standfast said to old Honest, Ho, Father Honest, are 
you there ? Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as you are 
there. Right glad am I, said Mr. Standfast, that i have 
found you on this road. And as glad am I, said the 
other, that I espied you on your knees. Then Mr, 
Standfast blushed, and said. But why, did you see me? 
Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and, with my heart, 
was glad at the sight. Why, what did you think? 
said Standfast. Think ! said old Honest ; what could I 
t^ink? I thought we had an honest man upon the 
r\)ad, and therefore should have his company by and 
by. If you thought not amiss, said Standfast, how 
fcappy am I ! But if I be not as I should, 'tis I alone 
Blast bear it. That is true, said the other; but your 
fear doth further confirm me that things are right be- 
twixt the Prince of Pilgrims and your soul. For ha 
eaith, " Blessed is the man that feareth always." (Prov» 
28. 14.) 

Valiant. Well, but, brother, I pray thee tell us 
what was it that was the cause of thy being upon thy 
knees even now? was it for that some special mercy 
laid obligations upon thee, or how ? 

Stand. Why, we are, as you see, upon the En- 
chanted Ground ; and as I was coming along, I was 
musing with myself of what a dangerous nature the 
road in this place was, and how many that had come 
even thus far on pilgrimage, had here been stopped and 
been destroyed. I thought also of the manner of the 



410 ^^^ P^L GRIM 'S FROGRESSo 

death with which this place destroyetii men. Thoed 
that die here, die of no violent distemper the death 
which such die is not grievous to them. For he that 
goeth away in a sleep, begins that journey with desire 
and pleasure. Yea, such acquiesce in the will of that 
disease. 

Then Mr. Honest, interrupting him, said, Did yoil 
see the two men asleep in the arbor ? 

Stand. Ay, ay, I saw Heedless and Toobold 
there, and for aught I know, there they will lie til'i 
they rot. (Prov 10:7.) But let me go on with my 
tale. As I was thus musing, as I said, there was one in 
very pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself to 
me, and offered me three things, to wit her body, hej 
purse, and her bed. Now, the truth is, I was both 
weary and sleepy. I am also as poor as an owlet, and 
that perhaps the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her 
once and again, but she put by my repulses, and smiled. 
Then I began to be angry ; but she mattered that 
nothing at all. Then she made ofPers again, and said, 
if I would be ruled by her, she would make me great 
and happy , for, said she, I am the mistress of the world 
and men are made happy by me. Then I asked her 
name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. This 
set me further from her , but she still followed me with 
enticements. Then I betook me, as you saw, to my 
knees, and with hands lifted up, and cries, I prayed to 
Him that had said he would help. So just as you came 
up, the gentlewoman went her way. Then I continued 
to give thanks for this my great deliverance ; for I verily 
believe she intended no good, but rather sought to make 
stop of me in my journey. 

Hon. Without doubt her desis^ns were bad. But 
stay, now you talk of her, methinks I either have aeeil 
her, or have read some story of her« 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 411 

Stand. Perhaps j'-ou have done both. 

Hon. Madam Bubble ! Is she not a tall, cornel v 
iiame, somewhat of a swarthy complexion ? 

Stand. Right, you hit it • she is just such a one. 

Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give 
you a smile at the end of a sentence? 

Stand. You fall right upon it again, for these are 
her very actions. 

Hon. Doth she not wear a great purse by her sidej. 
and is not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as 
if that was her heart's delight ? 

Stand. *Tis just so ; had she stood by all thi 3 
while you could not more amply have set her forti 
before me, nor have better described her features. 

Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good 
Hmner, and he that wrote of her said true. 

Great. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtitw 
of her sorceries that this ground is enchanted. Wh >- 
ever doth lay his head down in her lap, had as good la y 
it down on that block over which the axe doth hang i 
and whoever lay their eyes upon her beauty are counted 
the enemies of God. This is she that maintaineth in 
their splendor all those that are the enemies of pilgrims. 
(James 4 : 4.) Yea, this is she that hath bought off 
many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is a great gos- 
siper ; she is always, both she and her daughters, at one 
pilgrim's heels or another, now commanding, and then 
preferring, the excellences of this life. She is a bold 
and impudent slut : she will talk with any man. She 
always laughed poor pilgrims to scorn, but highly com- 
mends the rich. If there be one cunning to get money 
in a place, she will speak well of him from house to 
house. She loveth banqueting and feasting mainly 
well i she is always at one full table or another. She 
liaft given it out in some places that she is a goddess : 



(|lf THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

and therefore, some do worship her. She has her time 
and open places of cheating ; and she will say, and avow 
it, that none can show a good comparable to hers. She 
promiseth to dwell with children, if they will but ^ove 
her and make much of her» She will cast out of her 
purse gold like dust in some places and to some persons. 
She loves to be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie 
in the bosoms of men. She is never weary of commend- 
ing her commodities, and she loves them most that think 
best of her. She will promise to some crowns and king- 
doms, if they will but take her advice ; yet many hath 
she brought to the halter, and ten thousand times more 
to hell. 

Stand. Oh, said Standfast, what a mercy is it that 
I did resist her ; for whither might she have drawn me 1 

Great. Whither ? nay, none but God knows 
whither. But, in general, to be sure, she would have 
drawn thee into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which 
drown men in destruction and perdition. (1 Tim. 6 : 9.) 
'Twas she that set Absalom against his father, and 
Jeroboam against his master. 'Twas she that persuaded 
Judas to sell his Lord ; and that prevailed with Demas 
to forsake the godly pilgrim's life. None can tell of the 
mischief that she doth. She makes variance betwixt 
rulers and subjects, betwixt parents and children, be- 
twixt neighbor and neighbor, betwixt a man and his 
wife, betwixt a man and himself, betwixt the flesh and 
the spirit. Wherefore, good Mr. Standfast, be as your 
name is, and when you have done all, stand. 

At this discourse there was, among the pilgrims, a 
mixture of joy and trembling ; but at length they broki 
out and sung, — 

•* What danger is the pilgrim in t 
Bow many are his foes I 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 4, j 

How many ways there are to sin 
No living mortal knows. 

** dome in the ditch are spoiled ; yea, can 
Lie tumbling in the mire : 
Some, though they shun the frying-pan, 
Do leap into the fire." 

After this, I beheld until they were come into ^J';^^• 
land of Beulah, where the sun shineth night and diiy. 
Here, because they were weary, they betook themselves 
a while to rest. And because this country was common 
for pilgrims, and because the orchards and vineyards 
that were here belonged to the King of the Celestial 
Country, therefore they were licensed to make bo'd 
with any of his things. But a little while soon refresh';d 
them here ; for the bells did so ring, and the trumpets 
continually sound so melodiously, that they could not 
sleep, and yet they received as much refreshing as ii 
they had slept their sleep ever so soundly. Here, also, 
all the noise of them that walked the streets was. More 
pilgrims are come to town ! And another would answer 
saying, And so many went over the water, and were let 
in at the golden gates to-day ! They would cry again. 
There is now a legion of shining ones just come to 
town, by which we know that there are more pilgrims 
upon the road ; for here they come to wait for them, 
and to comfort them, after all their sorrow. Then tho 
pilgrims got up, and walked to and fro. But how were 
their ears now filled with heavenly noises, and their eyes 
delighted with celestial visions I In this land they 
heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing, smelt nothing, 
tasted nothing, that was offensive to their stomach or 
mind ; only when they tasted of the water of the river 
over which they were to go, they thought that it tasted 
a little bitterish to the palate ; but it proved sweetej 
wben it was dow»* 



^X4 ^^^ PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

In this place there was a record kept of the names 
of them that had been pilgrims of old, and a history of 
all the famous acts that they had done. It was here 
also much discoursed, how the river to seme had had 
its flowings, and what ebbings it has had while others 
had gone over. It has been in a manner dry for some^ 
while it has overflowed its banks for uthers. 

In this place the children of the town would go into 
the King's gardens, and gather nosegays for the pilgrims, 
and bring them to them with much affection. Here, 
also, grew camphire, with spikenard and saffron, calfv* 
mus and cinnamon, with all the trees of frankincense, 
myrrh, and aloes, with all chief spices. With these thitf 
pilgrims' chambers were perfumed, while they stayed 
here; and with these were their bodies anointed, 1o 
prepare them to go over the river, when the time a])- 
pointed was come. 

Now, while they lay here, and waited for the goo a 
hour, there was a noise in the town that there was a 
pv^st come from the Celestial City, with matter of great 
importance to one Christiana, the wife of Christian the 
pilgrim. So inquiry was made for her, and the house 
was found out where she saw. So the post presentei 
her with a letter. The contents were: Hail, good 
woman ; I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth for 
thee, and expecteth that thou shouldst stand in His 
presence, in clothes of immortality, within these tea 
days. 

When he had read this letter to her, he gave her 
therewith a sure token that he was a true messenger, 
and was come to bid her make haste to be gone. The 
token was, an arrow with the point sharpened with love, 
let easily into her heart, which by degrees wrought so 
effectually with her that, at the time appointed, sbfd 
must be goue« 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 415 

When Christiana saw that her time was come, and 
^at she was the first of this company that was to go 
Dver, she called for Mr. Greatheart, her guide, and told 
him how matters were. So he told her he was heartily 
glad of the news, and could have been glad had the 
post come for him. Then she bid him that he should 
give advice how all things should be prepared for her 
journey. So he told her, saying, Thus and thus it must 
be, and we that survive will accompany you to the river- 
side. 

Then she called for her children, and gave then: her 
blessing, and told them that she had read with comfort 
the mark that was set in their foreheads, and was glad 
to see them with her there, and that they had kept 
their garments so white. Lastly, she bequeathed to 
the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons 
^nd daughters to be ready against the messenger 
should come for them. 

When she had spoken these words to her guide, and 
to her children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-truth, 
and said unto him, Sir, you have in all places showed 
yourself true-hearted ; be faithful unto death, and my 
King will give you a crown of life. (Rev. 2 : 10.) I 
would also entreat you to have an eye to my children ; 
and if at any time you see them faint, speak comfort^ 
ably to them. For my daughters, my son's wives, they 
have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the promise upoa 
«hem will be their end. But she gave Mr. Standfast 
i ring. 

Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of him, 
'* Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!" 
(John 1: 47.) Then said he, I wish you a fair day 
when you set out for Mount Sion, and shall be glad to 
«ee that you go over the river dry-shod. But she an- 
swered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone ; foJ 



^l6 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

however the weather is in my journe3% I shall have 
time enough when I come there to sit down and rest 
X? «?.nd dry me. 

Then came in that good man Mr. Readytohalt, to 
see her. So she said to him, Thv travel hitherto has 
been with difficulty; but that will make thy rest the 
sweeter. Watch, and be ready; for at an hour when 
you think not, the messenger may come. 

After him came Mr. Despondency and his daughter 
Muchafraid, to whom she said, You ought, with thank- 
fulness, forever to remember your deliverance from 
the hands of Giant Despair, and out of Doubtinfj 
Castle. The effect of that mercy is, that you ar« 
brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful, and cast 
Eway fear ; be sober, and hope to the end. 

Then she said to Mr. Feeblemind, Thou wast deliv' 
ered from the mouth of Giant Slaygood, that the a 
mightest live in the light of the living, and see tbf 
King with comfort. Only I advise thee to repent c^f 
thine aptness to fear and doubt of His goodness, bo- 
fore He sends for thee ; lest thou shouldst, when Hs 
comes, be forced to stand before Him for that fauU 
with blushing. 

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. 
So the road was full of people to see her take her 
|ourney. But behold, all the banks beyond the river 
vere full of horses and chariots, which were come 
down from above to accompany her to the city gate. 
60 she came forth, and entered the river, with a beckon 
of farewell to those that followed her The last words 
chat she was heard to say were, I come. Lord, to be 
with Thee and bless Thee I So her children and friends 
returned to their place, for those that waited fo? 
Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So sh^ 
went and ealled, rnd entered in at the gat^ with al' 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



41^ 



ahe ceremonies of joy that her husband Christian had 
entered with before her. At her departure, the chiL 
dren wept. But Mr. Greatheart and Mr. Valiant 
played upon the well-tuned cymbal and harp for joy. 
So all departed for their respective places. 

In process of time there came a post to the town 
again, and his business was with Mr. Ready toh? It. So 
he inquired him out, and said, I am come from Hina 
whom thou hast loved and followed, though upon 
crutches j and my message is to tell thee, that He 
expects thee at His table to sup with Him in his king' 
dom, the next day after Easter ; wherefore preparo 
thyself for this journey. Then he also gave him a 
token that he was a true messenger, saying, " I have 
broken thy golden bowl, and loosed thy silver cord * 
(Eccles. 12: 6.) 

After this, Mr. Readytohalt called for his fello\»v 
pilgrims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, an«f 
God shall surely visit you also. So he desired Mi. 
Valiant to make his will. And because he had nothint 
to bequeath to them that should survive him but his 
crutches, and his good wishes, therefore thus he said. 
These crutches I bequeath to my son that shall tread 
in my steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may- 
prove better than I have been. Then he thanked Mr. 
Greatheart for his conduct and kindness, and so ad- 
dressed himself to his journey. When he came to the 
brink of the river, he said, Now I shall have no more 
need of these crutches, since yonder are chariots and 
horses for me to ride on. The last words he was 
heard to say, were, Welcome, life! So he went his 
way. 

After this, Mr. Feeblemind had tidings brought him 
that the post sounded his horn at his chamber-door. 
Then he came in, and told him, saying, I am come to 



4i8 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 

tell thee that thy Master hath need of thee, and tfeal 
m a very little time thou must behold His face in 
brightness. And take this as a token of the truth of 
my message : " Those that look out at the windows 
shall be darkened." (Eccles. 12:3.) Then Mr. Feeble- 
mind called for his friends, and told them what errand 
had been brought unto him, and what token he had 
received of the truth of the message. Then he said» 
Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what pur- 
pose should I malxO a will ? As for my feeble mind, 
that I will leave behind me, for that I shall have no 
need of in the place whither I go, nor is it worth be* 
stowing upon the poorest pilgrims: wherefore, when 
I am gone, I desne that you, Mr. Valiant, would bury 
it in a dunghill. This done, and the diiy being come 
on which he was to depart, he entered the river as the 
rest. His Jast words were, Hold out, faith and pa- 
tience 1 So he went over to the other side. 

\Vhen days had many of them passed away, Mr. De- 
spondency was sent for; for a post was come, and 
brought this message to him : Trembling man ! these 
are to summon thee to be ready with the King by the 
next Lord's day, to shout for joy for thy deliverance 
from ail thy doub tings. And, said the messenger^ 
that my message is true, take this for a proof: so he 
gave him a grasshopper to be a burden unto him. 
(Eccles. 12 : 5.) 

Now Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose name was 
Muchafraid, said, when she heard what was done, that 
she would go with her father. Then Mr. Despondency 
said to his friends. Myself and my daughter,- you know 
what we have been, and how troublesomely we have 
behaved ourselves in every company My will and my 
daughter's is, that our desponds and slavish fears be 
bji no man ever received, from the day of our de 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, ^j^ 

jparture, forever; for I know that after my death thej 
will ofter themselves to others. For, to be plain with 
yea, they are ghosts which we entertained when we 
iirst began to be pilgrims, and could never shake them 
off after ; and they will walk about, and seek entertain* 
ment of the pilgrims : but for our sakes, shut the doors 
upon them. 

When the time was come for them to depart, they 
went up to the brink of the river. The last words of 
Mr. Despondency were. Farewell, night ; welcome, day I 
His daughter went through the river singing, but non% 
could understand what she said. 

Then it came to pass, a while after, that there was \ 
post in the town that inquired for Mr. Honest. So 1; e 
came to the house where he was, and delivered to h a 
hand these lines : Thou art commanded to be read f 
against this day seven-night, to present thyself befoi e 
thy Lord at his Father's house. And for a token thi>t 
mj message is true, ** All the daughters ot music shall 
be brought low." (Eccles. 12; 4.) Then Mr. Hone«i 
called for his friends, and said unto them, 1 die, bit 
shall make no will. As for my honesty, it shall go wiljj 
tne ; let him that comes after be told of this. 

When the day that he was to be gone was come, be 
Addressed himself to go over the river. Now the river 
at that time overflowed its banks in some places ; but 
Mr. Honest, in his lifetime, had spoken to one Good- 
conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, 
and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The 
last words of Mr. Honest were, Grace reigns 1 So he 
left the world. 

After this it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-fop- 
truth was taken with a summons by the same post aa 
the other, and had this for a token that the summona 
was true, ** That his pitcher was broken at the fountam.*" 



^Q 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



(Eccles. 12 : 6.) When he understood it, he called W 
his friends, and told them of it. Then said he, I am 
going to my Father's ; and though with great difficulty 
£ have got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all th« 
trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. My sword 
I give to him that shall succeed me in ray pilgrimage, 
ind my courage and skill to him that can get it. My 
i'narks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness foi 
Kie that I have fought His battles who will now be my 
rewarder. 

When the day that he must go hence was come, 
many accompanied him to the river-side, into which, i 9 
he went, he said, " Death, where is thy sting ? " An J 
as he went down deeper, he said, " Grave, where is th f 
victory ? " (1 Cor. 15 r 55.) So he passed over, and aJ 
the trumpets sounded for him on the other side. 

Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Standfasts 
This Mr. Standfast was he whom the rest of the pi t- 
grims found upon his knees in the Enchanted Grounct, 
And the post brought it him open in his hands; the 
contents thereof were, that he must prepare for ft 
change of life, for his Master was not willing that he 
should be so far from him any longer. At this Mr. 
Standfast was put into a muse. Nay, said the mes- 
senger, you need not doubt of the truth of my message; 
for liere is a token of the truth thereof, " Thy wheel is 
broken at the cistern." (Eccles. 12 : 6.) Then he called 
to him Mr. Greatheart, who was their guide, and said 
unto him, Sir, although it was not my hap to be much 
in your good company during the days of my pilgrimage, 
yet, since the time I knew you, you have been profitable 
to me. When I came from home, I left behind me a 
wife and five small children ; let me entreat you, at 
your return (for I know that you will go and return to 
four Master's house, in hones that you mav vet Iw « 



THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 421 

^-uuacLv^r to more ot the holy pilgrims), that you ser.d 
to my family, and let them be acquainted with all that 
hath and shall happen unto me. Tell them, moreover, 
of my happy arrival at this place, and of the present 
late blessed condition I am in. Tell them also ot 
Christian and Christiana his wife, and how she and hei 
children came after her husband, Tell them also oi 
what a happy end she made, and whither she is gone* 
I have little or nothing to send to my family, unless it- 
be prayers and tears for them ; of which it will suffice 
that yon acquaint them, if peradveuture they may 
prevail. 

When Mr. Standfast had thus set things in ordej, 
and the time being come for him to liaste him away, li 1 
also went down to the river. Now there was a gre^fc 
calm at that time in the river ; wherefore Mr. Standfast, 
when he was about half way in, stood a while, an 1 
talked with his companions that had waited upon hiu 
thither. And he said, This river has been a terror t^) 
many ; yea, the thoughts of it also have often frighr^ 
ened me ; but now methinks 1 stand easy ; my foot is 
fixed upon that on which the feet of the priests thai 
bare the ark of the covenant stood while Israel went 
over Jordan. (Josh. 3: 17.) The waters indeed are 
to the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold : yet the 
thoughts of what I am going to, and of the convoy that 
waits me on the other side, do lie as a glowing coal at 
my heart, i see myself now at the end of my journey 
my toilsome days are ended. I am going to see that 
head which was crowned with thorns, and that face 
which was spit upon for me. I have formerly lived by 
hearsay and faith ; but now I go where I shall live by 
sight, and shall be with Him in whose company I de« 
light myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of j 
*iid wherever I have seen the print of His shoe in tha 



42« THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. ^ 

aartii, there I have coveted to set my foot too. His 

name nas been to me as a civet-box ; vea, sweeter than 
%A perfumes, His voice to me has been most sweet 
and His countenance I have more desired than they 
that have most desired the light of the sun. His word* 
\ did use to gather for my food, and for antidotes against 
jny faintings. He hath held me, and hath kept mo from 
mine iniquities : yea, my steps hath He strengthened ir. 
His way. 

Now, while he was thus in discourse, his count©' 
Eance changed ; his strong man bowed under him : and 
after he had said, Take me, for I come unto Thee, he 
leased to be seen of them. 

But glorious it was to see how the open region wm 
SUed with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and 
pipers, with singers and players upon stringed instra 
ments, to welcome the pilgrims as they went up, anc 
lollowed one another in at the beautiful gate of the city. 

As for Christiana's children, the four boys tha^ 
Christiana brought, with their wives and children, I did 
not stay where I was till they were gone over. Also» 
since I came away, I heard one say that the}^ were yet 
alive, and so would be for the increase of -h^ ^hjUvAv 
in that place where they were, for a cime. 

Should it be my lot to go that way agam, ^ ma;^ 
giye those that desire it an account of wha'; T lu^r** a» 
«il«et abouL Mp«*«»tinj^ ^ ^id my reader 

F.4JRF.WELX^ 



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